Ms. B1tch and Commercial Land
Ms. B1tch is thinking about commercials.
She wonders, what what what could some of these advertising agencies, or whomever the case may be, could be thinking with some of these commercials! Good Gawd A-mighty some of them are awful - plainly said, Bless Their Hearts (a southun thang-that means, what I said about them is true, probably understated to be po-lite, and then I have to make it less stingingly obvious I'm putting them down by saying bless their heart!)
So, take the Ford commercials - the BOLD MOVES - Ms. B1tch doesn't think they are so bold! WHo defined Bold? For example, the woman is picking up her dry cleaning and in the rearview sees a handsome man - she says to the lady at the window "I want to pay for one of his shirts, and give him my card." EWYEWWWWW! For one thing, this handsome man may have a wife and five kids! Or, he simply may not like strange women paying for his stuff and giving their cards and then driving away in a Ford, he may hate Fords, he may be a drunkard, he may be a stalker and now he has his next victim, he may be ...you get the idea, BUT, BUT, that doesn't even get Ms. B's goat as much as this does, the idea of her paying for a handsome man's dry cleaning, leaving her card, and driving away in her BOLD MOVES FORD! isn't all that worrisome to Ms. B1tch -this is!....-- why just ONE SHIRT! why pay for just one? WHy not pick up his entire bill if you are really being BOLD -- what's one shirt, $2.95 or something? $5.95? $6.95? Whhoppeeeedooply! Ms. B imagines the Handsome Man driving up to get his dry cleaning, and saying "Yes, order for Tim Smith - I had five shirts, three trousers, and a tie" and the woman says, "Oh, that lady that just left paid for one of your shirts, and here's her card?" and Handsome SMith says, "Huhn? she did wha?" and the lady snickers, and says "She paid for one of your shirts!" ANd he says, "Oh, well, okay -- whatever...." and that night he goes home and tells his Partner, George, all about it and they have a big ass laugh over it. TIm says, "should I call her ? teehee" and George says, "No, let me...." but they never do, and the woman's BOLD MOVE is all for naught. One shirt. teehee
And Burger King - No, it is not going to happen BK - no, never --- I know what you are thinking, you are thinking that your ugly, weird, very disturbing man with the BK King plastic head will become a cult classic - you think, just like "THE TEN TON BLOB FROM OUTERSPACE LAND" and "SEVENTY FIVE TON MAN-EATING TOMATO!" and and maybe even "PEE WEE'S PLAYHOUSE" that YOU TOO can have a cult classic, where even though one knows it is very very bad television, something about it makes one screech, drink more vodka, laugh and watch and come back for more. But NO NO NO, BK - this will never ever happen with your BK King with the plastic head -- it is NOT WORKING, and it never will, and he's creepy creepy creepy and not in a good old horror film kind of way creepy, or not in a boy-man goes to naughty movie and does naughty things to himself and ruins his career kind of way(no, not even that - even though that is surely surely shudderingly creepy) -but in a "you've got to be kidding me--ORK EEK ERK ICK ICK ICK TURN THE CHANNEL QUICK QUICK" kind of way creepy, yes, the turn the channel very quick kind of creepy --and when the remote is across the room, and one can't help but watch when one is too lazy to get up, and the one where ugly creepy Plastic BK man peers in the beautiful woman's window and then shoves his finger in the window (EYEWWWW the implications, the Freudian of it alllllll) with the little hamburger held out, Ms. B1tch shudders from tip to toe and almost vomits from disgust. Stop it, stop it NOW Burger King ...STOP IT (and what self-respecting football playing man would actually want to bump stomach areas with that creepy thang - bless his heart).
Last (today), but not least - the commercials about Period Pads --sorry men who may come by here -- Woman walks up to Other WOman in the aisles of the drug store where allllll the kotex and other sundries of pads and such are, and Woman says to Other Woman, "Does your pad ever get really stinky and sticky and gross and disgusting and probably right now you are wearing a pad that is so gooshy and stinky and nasty - I think I can smell it, yes, I can, and you probably have some dribbling over the sides RIGHT NOW! That's pretty gross, now isn't it?" and the Other WOman replies, "WHy yes! You are correct! I have that happen ALL THE TIME, and yes, it is happening right now! I'm gooshing over the sides, and I smell so bad right now, my pad is quite full and sticky and stinky! How ever did you know?" And Woman smiles knowingly and says, "Because you aren't using DAISY FRESH pads, that's why! DUH! If you use DAISY FRESH, then your pad will always remain clean and dry and stink free-no matter how much disgusting goosh shoots out up on it!" and Other Woman grins and picks up the box of Kotex or whatever brand MS. B can't remember right now (see, it didn't work! the commerical didn't work because I don't remember the brand, only the bad commercial! ha!) and says, "From now on I use DAISY FRESH!" and Woman nods her head knowingly again, and says, "You better!" and they laugh and laugh.
Ms. b will return with more commercials, whether you like it or not! HA!
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Ms. B1tch forgets what she was to tell!
Ms. B1tch sure can't remember what she was going to write to you this morning! She was walking along and thinking about Things and in those Things came something where she thought, "Ha! I will write about that on the blog!" and by time she got back, and by time she had some toast, and by time she ate the toast and then went to her 'puter and then fiddled with email and then read the online comics she gets via email and by time she tries to figure out why her puter is running slow and by time all that is done, she says, "now, I shall write on the blog.....but wait! what was I thinking about writing? and she tries to backtrack, but all she can remember is Hamburger Helper...so, Ms. B will start there.
Ms. B1tch was remembering something she can't remember, and in that she thought about shen she was "poor," and she thinks of "poor" in the way many of us think of poor - and not the real poverty one can see in other countries. The poor here can be quite different, as in, when Ms. B1tch was a little girl, there wasn't enough money, and enough food, there were us children to feed-- Ms. B's step-then-adoptive mom worked and worked, but still, not much money for our family in the sixties, and Ms. B isn't sure if father was working or going to school or both, but he didn't make much money either. One time, Ms. B remembers a box of food on the table, and Ms. B's mom going through the box and I know she was both happy and sad to get it, happy since there was now food, and sad because she had pride, but, the church delivered it and so they must have known we didn't have much, and no, we didn't have enough. And in that box was a cake mix, and oh oh oh! We kids were so happy to get that cake mix! Mom made the cake and we devoured it, feeling the luckiest kids alive -- sweets! we had sweets! Now, you know how much food there is out there now? Fast food and supermarket aisles full full full of food, and food banks for the poor, and this and that and the other --and there is much waste it seems, like when Ms. B1tch watched "Hells Kitchen" - one thing that made her sick was how they kept throwing out the food when it wasn't "Perfect" - Ms. B1tch was sick sick to see that! But, that is another thing, so Ms. B will go on about the other. When Ms. B was little, times were hard for her family, and even as she grew older, and things got better, there was never an excess, there was no going out to eat at fast food or even at restaurants unless it was something very special, there was no waste, and we ate many many beans and cornbread. But, we had roof over our heads and our tummies eventually got full as time went on.
That is one type of poor, and the other is when Ms. B was married to the first man before her good marriage to Mr. B1tch. She vowed never ever to eat Hamburger Helper again if she ever had enough money to buy food (and she has never ever eaten that again to this day!) and one day, Ms. B1tch didn't even have money for hamburger to go in the hamburger helper, so her then husband caught some crawfish and she put them in the hamburger helper - and if you are thinking "eyew" you would be right, it was quite eyew, but it was food...and Ms. B1tch was working all she could, but not making much money, and her then husband sometimes worked and sometimes didn't -- it was very hard. So, that's a kind of poor--where food is a bit scarce, but there is a roof over the head (even though sometimes the rent was very very late and worry worry over being evicted!) and there was a car or two - very jalopied and barely running, but needed, since we aren't in the days or places where a bus will come or walking to work is feasible (although Ms. B1tch DID walk to work - while pregnant, through a 'bad' part of town, because her car ran out of gas, and she had to work! Ms. B1tch just hoped and hoped that car would make it on fumes, and alas, it did not...)
Then there was the kind of poor when Ms. B1tch, too many years later, finally left her first husband, and she was a single mom of only one, without child support, and most her money went to pay rent in an apartment that was too expensive, but Ms. B felt it was safer and better for her son, and for her, and a policeman lived right across from her! One time Ms. B1tch wrote a check two days before payday for groceries and it went through too early! Oh, woe is Ms. B! Checks begain bouncing, and all because she needed food! And as the checks bounced, Ms. B got more and more behind, and she cried, but where no one could see her. She cried and worried and when her son would go to his dad's to visit, or to a friend's house, Ms. B would eat very little, and would pace the apartment, wondering how she would do this, how she would make it, how would she pay her insurance? Get enough groceries with healthy food? Have the gas to drive to work? ANd the vehicle had so many problems and needed repair, and the tires were bald. What about CHristmas coming up? Oh worry. ANd since she worked, and had always worked, there was no help for Ms. B-not that she would take it, for she had too much stupid pride, the pride of one who won't call and ask for help, even from family!
Those are the poors I am talking about -- the poors which are not poverties, the poors where sometimes the stomach is growling, and the bills can't be paid, and the worries over evictions, and the worries about where money will come for school clothes, or for dinner, or gas and repair for the car, over paying insurance that is not only needed, but then by law required, and what about when one gets sick and needs a doctor, and medicines are needed and even though there may be insurance from employer, even twenty dollars taken out of the budget can mean the difference between paying some bill, or getting gas, or buying bread and peanut butter or some beans and cornbread! Those poors, are here, and Ms. B has been in them, and has not been in the poverty which you can see on television in some countries where bellies are distended, and food is so scarce that hunger is always there as a part of life-a hunger that is so deep the stomach distends itself pretending it has just eaten a big meal -swells and swells even as the arms and legs become sticks, and there is no roof over head, or not much of one, and there is no work, or car, or worse than anything at all -- no hope.
Ms. B1tch didn't mean to write all that, for she had a funny story about something else that she can't remember, and in that story was the story of the Hamburger Helper with the crawfish in it (eyew), and about something else, and all that up there just spit on out of Ms. B1tch's head and fingers! So, Ms. B expects she will leave it there.
One other thing, Ms. B1tch had to laugh at this. Ms. B and Mr. B went into this place made to look like old timey General Stores, and in that store there was a basket full of these toy plucked chickens, and Ms. B got one and when you squeeze the chicken, a disgusting looking egg thing comes out of its butt! It's got a clear egg shape and inside is the yellow yolk with white slimy stuff swishing about - icky, but Ms. B squeezed the chicken over and over, laughing, and in a perfectly timed instant that made everyone around laugh, right when Ms. B was saying, "I HAVE to get one of these...It's the perfect thing for me...." the woman next to her said, "My twelve year old would LOVE this..." Oh, Ms. B laughed at that - at her being as bad as a 12 year old!
Ms. B will return.
PS! Ms. B1tch was doing yoga (teehee) and she had a sudden memory - of filling a cake box with dirt, and then eating the dirt! Oh! It probably tasted better than the Hamburger Helper she'd eat years and years later! Ms. B remembers eating dirt, though, and wonders, is it because she was hungry, or just plain stoooopid hick girl
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Ms. B1tch rambles.
Ms. B1tch had a thought the other day when she was trying to visit you all! She had just been with her other persona visiting about, and when her other persona went to visit someone, the computer got hung up in the blog! and nothing worked! Then, Ms. B1tch herself tried to visit that same blog, and got hung up all over again! Everything had to be x'd out and oh so frustrating! So, Ms. B1tch didn't try to visit anyone else, she was so put out by getting hung up!
Then Ms. B1tch tried to visit Grace, and saw where she is no longer there. Ms. B1tch will miss Grace, and if she happens by, know she tried to visit!
But that made Ms. B1tch think about how since she has her other persona, and her other persona blogs and visits, and many, if not all of the people Ms. B1tch visits, so does her other persona --this makes doubling up of visiting! Ms. B1tch can't do this anymore!
So, if you have not seen Ms. B1tch make a comment in a while, then know that she still comes by to see you! She may not leave a comment, but she is there there and there!
Now, that is beside the way. (and and Edgy Kay! heehee, tee hee! so, you have figured it out! I bet you have!)
Ms. B1tch was thinking about lots of things, and since she is still trying to catch up from so much behindnessness, she has not been able to post good posts! Be patient with Ms. B1tch until things let loose of her a bit.
But she was thinking about when she was at restaurant and how her face began breaking out in the pimplies! MS. B1tch is too old for pimplies! And she gaped into the mirror, saw pimplies popping among her few lines of age! She said, "What the fucklyfoo is this? what is this pimple and this one and this one? what what the ficklyfuckfoo am I doing with pimplies!" and she fumed and fussed. She bought face wash, and to no avail!
Then, miracles of miracles! Soon she noticed her face clearing away- and she noticed this after she stopped working at Restaurant! Her face wash began working, too - and her skin began to glow, although she still does not look like the models on those skin care commercials where they say "Guess my age, I dare you!" Ms. B1tch says back to the TV, "Go fickly foo yourself! I don't care how old you are! You make me feel bad - with your perfect thighs and your perfect perkified breasts, and your perfect long ten foot tall legs, and your perfect floopy lips, and your perfect hair, and your perfect skin - go away! leave me!" for usually when Ms. B1tch sees these commercials, she is sitting on the sofa, eating something that isn't good for Ms. B1tch, or maybe it IS good for Ms. B1tch, like Halibut and salad, but still, she is stuffing her face while the Perfectly Perfect Model is saying "Was I listening to a vinyl record, or a CD ?" I don't care! Poo Pah! I just want to age my age, so go away! away! Now, that said, Ms. B1tch doesn't get jealous of beauty, for it is what it is - she just hates to have her age thrown in her face by commerical tv, by madison avenue, by old guys sitting around telling women how they ought to look - which is perpetually young forever and ever and if you don't get out there and do whatever it takes to look young young young forever young then you suck and are ugly and shitty and crappy and don't care about your husband or boyfriend and don't care about yourself because you are letting yourself be your age...and she sees this and feels mad about and ornery! ha!
Where was I? Oh yes....So, Ms. B thinks her face cleared because she was out of the "city" -- the traffic, and the dirt and grime and putried air of fucklies breathing on her skin! She is back to her reclusive place, away from it! And her face is thank ful!
Ms. B1tch woke up the other night and she felt undefined anger. Her anger was a hard ball in her stomach, and it tightened and tightened, and like a big fist it clenched inside her, and it spread out of her stomach and into her chest and down her legs and down her arms and then into her head, until her entire body was a mighty clenched fist - and she drew within herself, clenched fist self, and the anger became tighter and tighter - and she searched to find where it came from, where to direct it, and things came up, flared up like fire, flared up hot and streaking! She tried to unclench, but it would not let go, that late late night, while the dark closed in, folding her in, and the night sounds outside tried to lullaby her, tried to unclench her, but it didn't work! ANd, Ms. B1tch just lay there, pissed off at the world, or at parts of it. At something someone said, or did, and then at the struggles of her persona....for sometimes Ms. B1tch seperates herself from her persona and sits across from her and says, "You don't need that bullshit! Just tell them all to go fuckityflickerfick themselves! You can do that on your own, who needs them!" and her persona answers, "I don't know-I'm not sure..." and Ms. B1tch rolls her eyes at herself and says, "Who gave them all the power? huh? You tell me! It's a whole new world out there for (insert what Ms. B1tch's persona's dream is)! A whole new world - you set the rules - YOU set your own goddamed rules!" and Ms. B1tch's persona nods her head, but still looks doubtful, and then we merge together again, one side tough and ready to kick ass! and the other side doubtful and still trying to do things "as she is told is the best way..." HA! That ball of Pissed off, that fist of anger drew her in and in and didn't let go until the next morning, when the peaceful noises of her life just couldn't keep the fist closed, when Ms. B1tch just had to open up open up and open up!
How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie roll tootsie pop? Ms. B1tch wants to know, as she always bites hers before she gets to that, or the few few few times she actually gets to the center without biting, she has not thought to count her licks - for who the hell wants to count them anyway? Ms. B1tch wants to know the answers, she just doesn't want to have to work for the answer sometimes! HA!
Ms. B1tch will return.
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Who knew the delicious Halibut was so interesting. no no no, please do not let the Halibut being an interesting wonderful fish, because it is too tasty, and if it is interesting and wonderful, Ms. B1tch will start thinking too hard about it, and if she thinks too hard about it, Ms. B1tch will start thinking she shouldn't eat such an interesting and wonderful creature. No no no, she must not do this, because Halibut is wonderfully tasty! Even when she was served Halibut that was over-cooked, it was still tasty!
Here is something intersting: Halibut are a strange fish. They spend the larval part of their lives swimming upright, with eyes on both sides of their head, but soon one of their eyes migrates to the other side of their body, and they live the rest of their life as a flatfish, staying at or near the bottom most of the time. Wow! But, Ms. B1tch also read that Halibut eat each other, so, Ms. B can think about how if they eat each other, then what is the problem with Ms. B1tch eating them! Ha!
And Halibut are among the largest fish in the sea. Big ass fish, see the photo, wowza, that's a big ass fish!
Halibut is prized for its delicate sweet flavor, snow-white color and firm flaky meat. It is an excellent source of high-quality protein and minerals, low in sodium, fat and calories and contains a minimum of bones. Halibut is very versatile in the kitchen, as well, with many recipes for baking, broiling, pan-frying, deep-frying, poaching or barbecuing. A fletch refers to a large halibut fillet. One halibut will yield four fletches. Halibut also yield roundish cheeks which are extracted from their head area. Halibut cheeks are sweet flavored and are considered a delicacy. Cheeks?! Wow, fish cheeks, will wonders ever begin their ceasing!
Oh, But Ms. B1tch ate Halibut at least three different ways: grilled with a delicate seasoning - this was at a restaurant tucked away in a small town, a place one may not think to stop, but oh so glad we did, and Ms. B1tch has been googling the name, but can't find it! McKleskys or Mcklarsky's or or...in Oregon. But alas, she can not find it. The chef prepared us all beautiful beautiful food. ahhh ahhhhh. She had her halibut with an almond coating and she had her halibut with a slight breading and sauteed. Ms. B1tch is all about the Halibut, and what to her wondering ears should appear? But Mr. B1tch walking in the door with a huge grin on his handsome face, right when Ms. B1tch was writing about Halibut and looking at Halibut recipes and there he was, fool-grinning, and said, "I bought you some Halibut at the Hippie Store!" (The Hippie Store being the organic and etc grocery we sometimes drive to). Ah ah ah ah! Halibut for dining tonight! And what a treat, as it is expensive where Ms. B1tch resides!
Oh, but this entry is boring, but Ms. B1tch is sorry, actually, she probably isn't so very sorry, for she knows sometimes entries must be boring and tame and shitty bo bitty! But, she must go visiting and visiting takes up time and Ms. B1tch is behind in time, for her other persona is yapity do dahing in her brain telling her she has things to do! Oh Heavy Sigh! But ...
Ms. B1tch will return with tales - yes, she will.
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Hadda Hallibut or two.
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. Ms. B1tch has returned. Ms. B1tch is here. Ms. B1tch is strolling on by. Ms. B1tch's other persona drug her sorry ass here and there and yonder so that Ms. B1tch had no time to post! Ha~! But, Ms. B just read your comments and grin grin and more grinning.
She will return to visit soon, and to post. Ms. B1tch has discovered Halibut. Oh, delicious Halibut! Hallllll iiii i buuttttt!
Ms. B1tch will soon return.
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Chickens chickens chickens
Ms. B1tch can't get her mind off the chickens! Oh, but Ms. B1tch even ate the seemingly lowly chicken on Saturday night, when she had lovely guests over, and Mr. B1tch cooked said chicken parts in a Chicken Parmesana, as Ms. B1tch won't eat veal. Alongside the chicken was delicate angel hair pasta with a light lemon accent - with lemon zest abounding! And Ms. B1tch made a baby spring mix salad(the only babies she'll eat! ha!) with toasted walnuts, blue cheese, salt, pepper, and garlic infused ollive oil. There was wine and song and for dessert: Cheesecake with a strawberry coulee. Ah.
Ms. B1tch was curious what would happen if she put "Chickens" in the google search, and this is what she found!
First - Ms. B1tch has not idea what to think of this - Ms. B1tch's eyes are widened and she's saying "Hunhn, okay, huhn, well...." She watched the entire thing and still went, "Huhn..."So, you watch the intro, and then a woman clicks through a series of "slides" and then you can click on the individual chicken cards--which you can click on "more information" and it turns to the back -- and well, and um, well ...just see for yourself at Mail Order Chickens
Backyard chickens with Whoopie, SHorty, and Mrs. Puff--now how can I eat chickens with names like Whoopie, Shortie, and Mrs. Puff? Really now. And how come Mrs. Puff is a Mrs? How can you tell they're married and whose egg belongs to which Rooster and I bet Mrs. Puff's been around the chicken yard a time or two or five! ha!
And Oh NO! Ms. B1tch didn't click on the links - enough to see on the page displayed, ork. Will there be a meat Ms. B1tch can eat (heehee, that sounds funny, oh stop it! stop thinking that!) Poor chickies. Now, durn it, Ms. B1tch will be unable to eat chickens any longer if she keeps seeing things like THIS!
And there's Breeds of Chicken, where Ms. B1tch found THIS specimen called a TURKEN
And MUTANT CHICKENS! who grow Teeth! Wow! Ready for his close up Mr. Demille! HERE
And there was this strange little site just titled CHICKENS
And for the kiddies complete with Sound Effects! (except Ms. B1tch wonders when it says the dog is "just yawning and not going to gobble up the little chickie, but Ms. b1tch wonders, yes she does.....) Chicken Farm for Kiddies
And! Chicken Cartoonist Fred Savage of Savage Chickens Cartoons....who'da known?
Oh there was so much more! I invite you to google chickens anytime you like...bawk bawk bawk (I keep wanting to write Bake instead of Bawk, terrible!)
I hope you have enjoyed this delightful tour of chickens.
Ms. B1tch will return, but Ms. B1tch must tell you that her "Other Persona" has been keeping her busy, and Ms. B1tch is about to bitchslap herself because she wants to have fun and her other persona has been doodly dee poodly pah busy poo pah doo, and who cares, as if her Good Twin is so sppeeeciiaalll....HA! Keeping Ms. B1tch from having fun and talking about fucklies and chickens and the like. But! Ms. B1tch is able to go with her other persona (since they are one and the same, and it sounds so bizarre to talk about her other self as if it isn't her self but it is herself and she is one with herself!) but, We're going on a trip! whoozowie! Ms. B1tch will tell HER side of it when they/we/she/I returns - because she is sure her Good Twin Other Persona side will make it all sound so sweet and cute and la la la tee dah! ha!
Ms. B1tch will return, either before or after her trip!
She hopes to visit you all soon, and to add the "friends" list she finally figured out. So, if you get a message from ms B1tch about being a friend, it is because she has clicked "add friend" because she guesses that is the way it's done now? So Ms. B will have a list to keep track of?
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Ms. B1tch is off her rocker sometimes
(and Ms. B1tch accidentally deleted the post that was above his one...oops! will fix another later)
Ms. B1tch wants to say that she has tried to come visiting, but keeps getting hung up in some spaces, so if you dont' see her around, this is why!
From the Paranoid's Guide:
"Roughly 50% of all commercially raised chickens and turkeys succumb to Salmonella poisoning every year. More than a billion pounds of dead poultry are recycled annually into poultry feed. About 90% of all food-borne illnesses can be transmitted from animals to humans. Many Salmonella straings have become resistant to antibiotics."
Ah Chickens. Ms. B1tch's mind must be on the chicken lately. Chicken story below. Chicken this and chicken that. Eggs from Egg-lands best chickens. bawk bawk bawk!
And Ms. B1tch wonders why we aren't all sick, huh? With all these dire predictions as to our foodstuffs and the like. Perhaps we are evolving! Creating new bodies and innards which can withstand all the biochemicals and other kinds of pootly pah pah that attack us from every corner! Perhaps if we cut open someone from different times across the years and years, one will find the cells have mutated, changed, become changed from earlier Models of Human Being. Maybe our lungs are more shallow since there isn't as much fresh clean air and our bodies don't want us to breathe in too deeply. Maybe our stomachs have thicker linings to enable them to keep from erupting from all the shit we eat. Our veins holding more sluggish blood. Our eyes adjusted to the screens of tv's and computer screens. Have our taste buds changed? Ms. B1tch wonders, because she sees all manner of shittly pee poo eaten!
For Example, Ms. B1tch a few weeks ago went to a Burger King. Ms. B1tch was curious, as she's not been to a BK in years and years! Ms. B1tch doesn't like fast food and if she has has has to, she goes to Subway Eat Fresh (ahahahahahaha eat fresh ahahaha). So, Ms. B1tch said to Mr. B1tch and friends as we drove about the town, "I'm hungry." Everything was closed! for this is a small town. Ms. B1tch and Mr. B and friends didn't feel like going home to eat, for we were on a quest to find food outside the home! Drive and drive and drive, and restaurants all closed early that day. So, Ms. B1tch says, "There's a Burger King.." and the car is silent, the car is full of silence! Because all in car know Ms. B1tch does not eat at those kinds of places! Mr. B1tch says, "Are you sure?" but he is already turning into the BK - the friends already saying "oh I want a...." and Mr. B1tch going "whopper whopper whopper whopperhwopperhwoppperhwopwerpwrpwpewoper..." Ms. B1tch says, "well, geez pooteeze Mr. B1tch! Just because I don't eat here, doesn't mean you can't....." Ms. B1tch rolled her eyes. And, she really didn't want to eat at BK - she hates those fuckly commercials - the worst commercials EVER -especially that creepy King eyew. But, the gauntlet has been thrown, the car is already in the drive through, Mr. B and friends are already hollering out what they want into the box.
Mr. B1tch asks, "what do you want Ms. B?"
and Ms. B1tch wrinkles her nose, then says, "I'll have one of those hamburger things..."
"Hamburger things? There's lots of hamburger things onthe menu," he says.
Ms. B says, "Well, shit. Let's see....." and friends are sitting patiently tapping their fingers on their knees patiently clearing their throat, and Mr. B is patiently gripping the steering wheel.
"Well, I'll have that number 2 thing, I guess...."
Well, BK employee says, "You'll have to wait a minute, pull up."
we all look at each other, shrug, smile, okay, and drive up -- our food will be extra hot and fresh! For we h ave to wait a minute, which was almost ten or so.
Finally food is delivered to car! We drive off, holding bags of BK Stuffs. Ms. B reaches in and grabs a fry--hardly luke warm! Why, eyew. But,no matter!
We all get home, place our food on the table on the porch, lay it out as if it is a feast from heaven above!
Then, open those wrappers, ohhhhhhhh, everyone says, look at this! Ohhhhh, Mr. B says, his whopper looking most un-whopper like, Ms. B remembers those commericals, "It takes two hands to handle a whopper!" HA~ ! HAHAHAHAHA! They don't do those commercials anymore, now do they????
Ms. B1tch eats cold fries, and when she opens the bun, sees smushy shit under there with meat and some kind of strange red looking sauce. What the hell did Ms. B order?
Oh, at any rate, she is hungry! She bites into Hamburger Concoction, and it is cold and smushy and tasteless--the worst thing she's eaten in a very long time! Ugh ugh!
And everyone's food is cold - why did we wait 10 minutes if food is all coldish? What was the wait for?
No matter, everyone is enjoying their food - so Ms. B thought, but later, all are saying "wasn't so good..."
Ms. B1tch was mad. Ms. B1tch was scoffing - because she finally eats at Fast Food Joint and it tastes like coldnothing --it tastes like shit! Oh sigh. Ms. B will never go to BK again! Bleah bleah!
Ms. B forgot the moral to her story, and forgot why she started talkin about chickens, and then about molecules and evolution, and then went into a story about BK and she doesn't know what the hell she's all about this morning.
So, Ms. B will say so long and see you later.
PS - Ms. B sees this "pending request" thing and people listed to add as "friends" and doesn't know what this is about! so if she ignores something she shouldn't - it is because she is clueless!
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Which comes first the chicken or the egg or Ms. B1tch's Granny?
It is safe to come back in. Ms. B1tch isn't stomping or ray beaming anyone...
What Ms. B1tch dined on last night: Butter Lettuce and Romaine topped with grape tomatoes, toasted pine nuts, parmesan cheese, and a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil (and she never ever calls it it E V O O) with a small side of pasta tossed with spinach, and afterwards, a bowl of fresh sweet cherries (and even later, two fudgesicles, but what can Ms. B say? She loves the sweets!)
Egg*land's Best Cage Free ..."Thank you for choosing farm fresh Eggland's Best Cage Free Eggs. Every hen selected to lay Eggland's Best Cage Free eggs is free to roam in a pleasant natural enviornment and is fed Eggland's Best patended, all-natural, all-vegetarian diet.
Our Cage Free hen diet consists of healthy grains with no animal fat and no animal by-products to bring you the best tasting, most nutritious egg we possibly can. Also, Cage Free hen diets contain no added hormones, Eggland's Best never uses antibiotics or steriods of any kind...."
Ms. B1tch bought Eggland Best Cage Free eggs and that is what was inside the label. It makes Ms. B1tch wonder about all the eggs and poultry she has consumed over the years and years. So, all those other eggs and poultry ate unnatural byproducts and animal fat and had antibiotics and steroids? Ms. B1tch now knows why she is as she is! She is full of unnatural by products and animal fat and antibiotics and steriods!
But, Ms. B1tch, although she is not a militant kind of person, nor is she very much into causes because she thinks many times people get into the "Cause of the Week!" sort of like those sappy ass tv programs "Movie of the Week" where the disease of the week, the teen angst acting out of the week, the infidelity of the week, the mom murders other mom because she was prettier and her daughter was picked for the cheerleading squad leader of the week, so and thusly, Ms. B1tch thinks causes should be well thought out and when taken, should find ways to really make a difference, as shouting in the streets seldom really works without other kinds of ....oh, ms b1tch is suddenly tired of that harangue...so, what she is saying is, that she is very glad that the hens get to roam free! That they aren't fed disgusting fat and animal by-products (feet? eyeballs? testicals?) and they squat out beautfiul eggs that are clean and natural! bawk bawk bawk bawkity bawk! That's chicken for "Eat Eggland's Cage Free Eggs!"
Did you know that brown eggs come from brown chickens and white eggs come from white chickens? But stores will sell the brown eggs like they are "Farm Fresh" eggs because she supposes they think people will see the white eggs and think the company bleached them clean and white, but the brown eggs are "natural!" it makes Ms. B1tch smile and smile!
Ms. B1tch has been in a chicken yard - chickens are mean bastards and will peck the shit out of you (and don't forget ms. b told you below that chickens will eat their own shit! and their brothers and sisters shit and their neighbor's shit-they just peck and peck on the ground and eat whether it's shit or not--but I suppose at Egglands, it's all natural shit!) when you go to take their eggs, hell, they'll peck the shit out of you for no other reason than they are mean bastards. So, Ms. B1tch has this story that her younger brother told Ms. B1tch - yes! Ms. B1tch has brothers! And they are mighty fine brothers.
So, one day two of my younger brothers were at Granny's House in Southern Town and went into the chicken yard to fetch up some aigs (get some eggs from the nest--for you not in the South) and they was in they's shorts and bare feets since we went about in our shorts and bare feet all the live long day where we all lived in another Southern that isn' the Southern Town aforementioned. So, little brothers are in the chicken yard and this mean bastard chicken starts chasing littlest brother around the yard, squawking to beat the band, squawking and littlest bro was crying and running around the yard while other little brother was laughing, until the mean ole chicken came after him too! Oh, the squawking and the sobbing and the crying and the shouting and the wah wah wah, help help help! So, littlest brother finaly escapes from out that chicken yard, his ankles pecked up to Kingdom Damn Comes and cries in sweet Granny's (and she was a sweet granny--sweet and wise and Ms. B1tch sure misses her some Granny!) cotton dress, he goes, "Granny! that mean ole chicken pecked me silly!" and other brother comes in crying and sobbing, "Me too Granny! I'm all pecked up!" and his little feetses are pecked to the devil and back! Oh, Granny marches outside with brothers and says, "Show Granny which chicken it was!" and littelest brother goes, "There, Granny-that one right there!" and Granny walks over, picks up the chicken and FWOP FLIP FALOOP! she wrings that pecker chicken to its untimely unseemly death! And then cooked it up for supper, which my brothers didn't eat since they had stood there with they's eyes all bugged out like frogs and they's mouth opened up like baby birds waiting for a worm and they's pecked up ankles and feet didn't seem so bad all a sudden, and later, my littlest brother says, "I wasn't ever sure I picked the right chicken and it's haunted me to this day."
and that's Ms. B1tch's story, which is true.
Ms. B1tch will return.
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Ms. B1tch is snarling
STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP! STOMP!
Ms. B1tch wonders why some people are blind stupid idiotic and selfish fucklies. Why they must take something beautiful, ignore the beauty of it, and trash it. Why they take it upon themselves to ignore something wild and natural and free and put their ugly fuck-ass mark upon it, as if they can't stand something to be wild and beautiful and free. But they are fucklies of the highest fuckliest fucks. And Ms B1tch bets they are the same kind who would come in restaurant and treat everyone like dogshit on the bottom of their shoe, the same ones who made the most noise and made the most mess and "look at me! I'm a fucklie!"
Ms. B1tch stomped stomped, shook the road, shook the earth, shook the floors of her abode, everything trembles before Ms. B1tch's anger at the Fuckiles.
Ms. B1tch dons her cape and you along with her---P for Power! I for Invincible! S for Superior! S for Stupendous! E for Energy! D for Damn those fucklies! and we all spell out PISSED.
Ms. B1tch turns her ray-beam eyes upon the fucklies:
ZZAAAAP! Take that FUcklie~
"ow! Ms. B1tch"
"Ow ow ow stop it ms b1tch!"
"owie owowowowowowowowo stop sto p I'll behave!"
"wah wah stop ow ow ow stopp wah boohoo whine whine!"
ANd ZAP ZAP ZAP ZAP ZAP!
and the fucklies cower on the ground, snot running from their whiny noses as they whimper like spoiled fucklie brats......
and Ms. B1tch turns on her heel, leaves a dust cloud of PISSED behind her as she walks away from their sniveling countenances...
Ms. B1tch will return when she has calmed down.
(PS - and no, nothing anyone who visits here did ! Nothing to do with BLogerVille at all!)
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Alton Brown and his piggy foot
From the Paranoid's Guide: "Twenty-nine percent of experienced pilots have become so sick that they couldn't complete a flight. Most had eaten at the airport." and..."If the passenger in your seat on the incoming flight had serious gas, then you're sitting on a cushion full of disease-causing microbes."
From the Deliberate Acts of Meaness book: "In the middle of a date, lean over, blow seductively in your date's ear, and whisper 'I'm ovulating right now.' Watch him gallop into the distance. (Ms. B1tch has a Mr. B1tch and thus does not date, but this made her laugh)
Alton Brown ate some pickled pigs foot last night--took two bites of it anyway--and then threw it away, in disgust--because it tasted bad, not because he suddenly thought of Ms. B1tch and will never eat a pork again! He unwrapped it, all bundled up in that piece of foiil, unwrapped this ....this...THING...and picked it up and Ms. B1tch said, "what the hell is that ?" and Alton with his cute self picks it up and makes a face and says, "Pickled pig foot" and as Ms. B looked on in horror, he chewed a bite and then another...HOOOORRRORRRS! Oh, Ms. B was about to change the channel, but he got some sense and threw the offending horrid horrid thing in the garbage. Eyew. Alton! Say it ain't so. EYew. He doesn't even know Ms. B1tch and even if he did, he'd just laugh in his goodnatured loveable way and shake his head and say, "gotta have my pork!" Oh well, that is fine with Ms. B1tch, but she must turn away, oh heavy sigh. Oh, how her little piggies are consumed.
That pickled pigs foot was an incredible shade of hot piink. *Shudder*
Ms. B1tch is here for but a bit of a moment - for she wanted to tell you how much she laughs and laughs and enjoys your comments--you all have quite the sense of humor and she loves it when you come by and make her laugh! Ms. B1tch will also not think any less of the piggie consuming you out there, as long as she doesn't have to watch. But every time you eat a wittle piggy, think about Ms. B1tch looking on, a gentle tear sliding down her full highboned cheek, her hitching sigh as she turns slowly away, walking with her feet dragging in grief over her wittle pig pig piggies. And how she will try not to think o fher wittle piggies hanging up with their throats cut and their piggie blood flowing, and how their last thought was, "WHy? Why are they doing this to me? whyyyyyyyy? I saved the farmer from drowning! I play video games! I named my last child oikkkkersnorkeeoik!" Enjoy! *teehee*
Ms. B1tch will return.
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Ms. B1tch goes on and on about Piggies and Happy Cows and Tortured Lobsters
Firstly, Ms. B1tch wants to say that she laughs, and laughs and laughs some more at your comments left! She reads each and every one and tries hard to visit as often as she can, for remember, her other Persona, her Good Twin, has things she must do and Ms. B1tch goes along for the ride, of course, since we are one in the same.
From the Paranoid's Guide: "A 22-year old man was trapped against the wall of a swimming pool when his penis became stuck [note from ms b - uh....uh....hmmm...what?] in a suction hole [ms b's note--uh huh]. The pool's pump had ot be turned off in order to free the man."
and pertaining to Ms. Ad Exec below: "More people working in advertising died on the job last year than died while working in petroleum refining." huhn. you don't say? huhn.
From Deliberate Acts of Meanness: "WHen tourists ask you to take their photo, make sure you don't get their heads in the shot. They'll soon stop troubling locals" teehee
Ms. B1tch has been thinking about lobsters. And, though Ms. B1tch isn't an activist, she often thinks too much about things, and in the course of thinking too much about things, this thinkingabout things too much causes her to think even more about things too much and as a result she over thinks everything too much. So, sometimes Ms. B1tch thinks about the animals in which she consumes, and even as she consumes said animals, she feels a bit sick about it. There aren't many animals that MS. B1tch consumes, the list gets shorter and shorter.
For instance, Ms. B won't eat Piggies. Piggies are sweet, and smart, and save the same farmer who was going to take them to slaughter -save them from drowning! Yes, my friends laugh at me, but it is true! I heard about it! Piggie swam and he swam and he swam swam swam and saved Farmer from certain drowning death. Piggies are like doggies - eating Piggy is like eating Doggy! Piggies are clean, yet they are not--put a piggy in your house and it will be clean, put Piggy in the yard and it will find mud to happily roll about in - do you really want to eat an animal which has been rolling about in worm infested mud? Worm and germ and all manner of poo poo droppings? Piggy eats rather piggishly too - enjoying his food quite robustly--how can one eat an animal which so enjoys eating? Piggy's little eyes close shut in enjoyment, snort snort snuffle he goes as he dives into his dinner. Ms. B1tch will not eat Pork, Piggy, Ever. It disgusts her to see them cooked whole--poor piggy. She can't stand it. Augh.
Ms. B1tch does not eat Buffalo - for she thinks they are magnificent creatures, Yes, same as Q said, she will not eat bear, either...for she loves bear just as he is off the plate.
Ms. B1tch does not eat veal, or lamb--because they are bitty itty babies! Would you want some alien coming to earth and eating all our babies? Huh? If the aliens ate Uncle George, you'd weep and sigh and cry and be glad it was Uncle George and not you, but! if aliens ate the children off the playground, it would make you sick sick sick! You'd think alien a monster for eating children! So, Ms. B1tch doesn't eat animal children. Ever.
Ms. B1tch does not eat reptiles - no real reason, other than she things their are gross and probably poisonous - yes, they probably are - they probably have parasites too, yes, and probably have slithering kinds of molecules where one who eats them will start turning into a reptile, their skin turning hard and scaly, or whatever the case may be.
Ms. B1tch does not eat amphibians, because they are not edible in her view. Besides, she remembers something traumatic to her years ago--, something she will never ever ever forget - when someone she knows caught frogs to eat the legs thereof and and - she can't speak of it - the poor frogs screaming, the poor frogs waking from a painfilled stupor and then pitifully dragging themselves across the floor - oh, she did not witness this, but was told it by this person who hunts and fishes and -- oh UGH oh poor froggies! It has haunted her for over twenty years! She can't bear it -- even now she is OH OH must think of it "hummmm hummmhummmmmmmmmmmmstophmmmmstophmmmmstopthinkingofithmmmmmm"
Ms. B1tch eats chicken but thinks they are fucking nasty. Oh, Ms. B1tch has been to the chicken yard! They peck and eat their own shit, peck each other-they are mean little bastards. They have parasites, she is sure. OMG JUST AS MS B SAID PARASITE SHE LOOKED DOWN AT HER FLOOR AND A WEIRD LOOKING CREATURE IS CRAWLING PAST HER....A CENTIPEDE LOOKING THING _ OH OH --she hates centipedes - because they have too many weird alien things about then...but, she let it go on, for Ms. B lives in a sort of natural environment, she can't say, for it would give her away, tee hee -- where did it go? Ms. B can't find it--oh oh - anyway, she was saying, that chickens are fucking gross, but she'll consume them every now and then.
And lastly, seafood---Ms. B will eat fish and some seafood - and hopes the ones she eats are not tortured before death ! AUGH! Like in Louisiana where they eat boiled crawfish-first they put them in salt water until they puke all in the saltwater and then they throw them live in boiling water OH OH OH! OHOH! so terrible!
But the lobster is the same! This big creature gets thrown in boiling water and Ms. B read where the lobster (read because SHE WILL NOT cook them! NO!) where they fight to get out of the pot, and the cook many times has to leave the room, for the poor lobster is fighting and fighting to get out - for over thirty seconds they fight - you think 30 seconds isn't long - try counting thirty seconds while your hand is in boiling water and see how long it is OH AUGH!
I almost forgot our Cows! I tried to eat a steak the other night and felt kinda sick. ALl I could think about was the HAPPY COW commercials I talked about below. Happy Cows! Happy Cows! Happyslaphappy cows!. And then I thought of one of those HAPPY COWS getting shot right between the eyes, falling over dead and then being cut into all kinds of pieces. Augh.
Now, Ms B says, if you eat the above, that is you and Ms. B1tch would not stare at you or call you a name or think annnny less of you-- for everyone has their own Thang. But, Ms. B1tche's Thang is just as she has related to you.
Now, go eat something> Eat something every day. But, Ms. B1tch thinks she'll have a salad right now. ergh.
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From Poo to Pigs
From the "Paranoid's Guide" -- "Bythe year 2010, each person is expected to generate 1,774 pouds of solid waste per year."
Ms. B1tch says, eyew. Ms. B1tch remembers when Kat Wolf Howl blogged about all the poo poo and pee pee across the land, and how dogs and cats and all manner of animal and insect and etcetera did the same, and how it boggled up her mind, and then Ms. B1tch kept thinking about that every time she went go poo. Now, Ms. B1tch musn't think on it any more. But, what is one to do? quit eating and drinking? Alas.
Well, also from the Paranoid's guide: "People forget up ti 80% of what they learn within 24 hours..." so you are all safe from thinking of the above this time tomorrow.
Junglelife brought up the commercial about Fruits of the Looms undies, since Ms. B1tch was talking about commercials below. ANd Ms. B1tch is so glad the matter is finally cleared up for Ms B, because all this time she didn't know they were singing, "You can't over love your underwearrrrrrr!"
Ms. B1tch thought they were singing, "You can' t overLOAD your underwearrrr!" Ah. So, now that sets the record straight. It all makes so much more sense now, doesn't it?
Ms. B1tch has been watching Food TV and notices things. One thing she notices is how when most of the Food TV cooks and chefs prepare their foodstuffs, they make copious amounts of it. Now, Ms. B1tch wonders, who gets to eat all that? She hopes the hard working crew. But, she also wonders, on Emerile's show, does he make enough for all the audience, or do they just have to sit there and watch the chosen few at the bar eat? Ms. B1tch would feel woogly eating in front of all those growling tummies behind her!
She watches as Paula Deen cooks up enough for an army of twenty, and she can see her feeding all the crew and her family, and strangers on the street.
But then, on Saturday, Ms. B1tch was watching the nutritionist's show, with Ellie Ksomething - and her dinners are so skimpy in comparison, it makes Ms. B1tch laugh! For, Ellie Ksomething made her husband a "dinner" of lettuce leaves, asparagas with a thin thin slice bitty ittty of turkey wrapped around it, and a dip made with roasted bellpeppers - and that was all his dinner! And another time she had a dinner party, and made a salad with a few little pieces of baked spicy chicken on top, with blue cheese dressing--a tiny bitty itty bit of blue cheese, and thank goodness they had something on the side, some raw veggies or something, so they didn't go 'way starving! But, Ms. B likes the show, since it is healthy and that Ellie Ksomething is glowing with health and shows how to make things which are tasty but not loaded with fat molecules. And Ms. B1tch thinks, though, that the crew doesn't get anything to eat. Even when Ellie Ksomething made triple chocolate chip cookies, she only made 6 - two for her, two for hubbie, and two for someone esle - a child maybe? The rest of the dough went in the freezer while the crew just went cookie-less!
Oh, but Ms. B1tch rambled on about nothing. For she wanted to tell you about meat, and about lobsters, and about cute sweet pigs that she doesn't understand how people can cook them whole - why do pigs get cooked whole? It's obscene! One doesn't see whole cow with it's head and feet and tail still attached and an apple in the mouth - HORROR HORROR!
Ms. B1tch will return.
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Ms. B1tch talks about Food Commercials
Firstly, Ms. B1tch answered Jen's question below
(and by the way, you do not need to change links - it doesn't bother Ms. B1tch to be foreever known as Restaurant-B1tch!)
From the "Deliberate Acts of Meaness" book (mentioned below):
"Ask someone arrogant and conceited on a date. Have them meet you at a restaurant. When they show up, feign confusion. Say, "Oh, I didn't realize I was speaking to you. You have the same last name as the person I really wanted to go out with. Then, take them down a peg or two."
Ms. B1tch has been noticing quite a few food-related things, which Ms. B1tch will be talking about in the posts to come. For Example...Ms. B1tch notices food Commercials, and sits wide-eyed with a sense of amazement at the sheer strangeness of the advertisement industry. Have you seen the commercial where the man shakes the cow, and slaps its side, and gets down low and shimmies about? Ms. B1tch finds that bordering on the disturbing and thinks the one who came up with this ad spent too much time alone on a far far away farm without any women in sight for days and days and months and maybe years until the cows began to look quite cute and even sexy perhaps, especially with his momma's panties on them, and so when he finally left the farm and became an advertising person, he remembered those fond days and thus that commercial was....bred. (However, Ms. B1tch adores the Happy Cows commericals about cheese!)
But what of the man who comes home and his wife cheerily says, "I feel like tuna steak!" and he says, "where shall we go?" and all of a sudden, a big fat blue tuna fish with glasses shows up in their living room!(this is the same same blue Fish from days of old, when it used to stay in the ocean and somehow convinced millions of people to catch and eat all his relatives and put them in cans and ...the horror!) The Blue Fish with glasses says, "here I have tuna for you, look at this tuna in a pouch! yum yum!" (and again Ms. B1tch wonders why he offers up his kind to human consumption!) THey pan over to plates of this "Tuna Steak" and we are supposed to go "yum yum, look at that beautiful tuna 'steak!'" and rush to our local grocer to buy it up! Oh, my dear ones! Go out and buy a REal Tuna Steak! Now, Ms. B1tch admits to eating the occassional can of tuna when desperation kicks in - who hasn't? But Ms. B1tch assures you with every ounce of her assurances that the "Tuna Steak" touted by the blue fish in glasses is not worthy enough to be presented on the white plate with a garnish of green and the Yum Yum of the two cluelessesessess. Ms. B1tch thinks the Advertising Person sat down with a plate of REAL tuna steak in her sumptuous New York Apartment, with a side order of caviar and good champagne--all bought with monies earned from Blue Fish Commerical, and as she watched her Big Screen Movie Screen Quality TV to see what the competition was up to(she'd never be so crass as to watch tv for enjoyment!) she sees her commercial and laughs hysterically at mere man's gullibility, laughs and laughs and laughs until bits of her Real Tuna Steak fly out and hit her date on the cheek - wherein he says, "you are disgusting" and stands up and says, "i'm leaving" and advertising woman says, "Wait! Raoul! Please! don't leave!" and he says, "I never liked you anyway..." and she says, "but but but..." and he says, "Your commercial sucks!" and she collapses on the sofa (not couch, sofa) and cries her wittle heart out and she thereafter works on sitcoms where the wife is always denegrating and harping at the bumbling husband.
Ms. b1tch will return with something about Lobsters.
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Ms. B1tch Answers
dear ms. b1tch,
i have one more restaurant related question. when the waitress/waiter comes up and introduces themselves "hello, my name is bob and i'll be your server this evening". does that mean that the customer is entitled to call him bob for the rest of the evening?
my brother-in-law does that and i personally find it annoying and a wee bit patronizing.
Published by: Jen
MS. B1tch doesn't mind still getting restaurant-related questions, for she has seen, heard, been, done! When Ms. B sat Customer, she would most times say, "BillyBob will be with you in a moment, enjoy your meal..." but she never expected them to call them by name, more it was only a formality, a way to connect the Customer with the Server. She has heard Servers saying, "I'm BillyBob and these are the specials" but it is more what is expected from them now-days than any care or desire that their name be bandied about. Ms. B1tch thinks it is a way to make it more personal, so customer won't behave like an asshole, which some do anyway. And, perhaps so Customer won't say "Hey YOU, hey *snapity snap*" which they do anyway at times. Ms. B1tch cant' speak for all servers, but she knows that her servers didn't care if Customer called them BillyBob or SallyJane in the least--they just want to be treated with dignity and care.
Ms. B1tch is here to answer all your questions - about -just about-anything at'tall, and she will try her dangliest to answer all life's hardest, and not so hardest, questions.
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Ms. B1tch is hanging around a while.
Ms. B1tch won't be Restauran-tB1tch perhaps, as she stayed at Restaurant a mere three months before her real persona split out of her Pretend Host persona and let loose her demons of unabashed eyerolling disdain towards fucklies. But Ms. B1tch has to say that she met beautiful lovely people, lots of them, and in true fashion of Human Nature, she let the few percent of fucklies outweigh the many percenty of lovelies she came across. Still and thus and so, working in the Service Industry is not for the faint of heart--and Ms. B1tch is not of faint of heart, just faint of patience! As she told Chef: "Chef, "I'm beginning to tell customers to kiss my ass, so it's time for me to go."
So, Ms. B1tch was thinking. The last two times Ms. B1tch entered a bookstore, Ms. B1tch bought a book that her nice good twin may have passed on by. She picked these two books up and laughed, while her good twin side looked on with eye rolling. Ms. B1tch bought them. One is "The Paranoids Pocket Guide -hundreds of things you never knew you had to worry about!" written by Cameron Tuttle...(Oh, it's delishushly tongue in cheek, mostly), and she bought, tee hee, "Deliberate Acts of Needless Meanness-a msicellany of mischief-making" by Justin Rosenholtz --oh! joy and fun!
Ms. B1tch will use them, and other Life THingees, to post here, and as long as she has fun, and as long as you have fun, Ms. B will stick around. (Or as long as ms. b's other persona is wallowing around in obscurity and if she ever is no longer in obscurity, perhaps she won't be around as much - but alas and alack, her other persona will most certainly be in some for of obscurity for a very long time and most certainly maybe forever!)
While still in the Restaurant Mode - ms B opens up the Paranoids Guide and reads thusly (and she will hence forth directly quote, or paraphrase from books):
"Sulfur-based perservatives used legally to enhance the colors and crispness of vegetables found in salad bars (ms b's restaurant had no 'salad bar' no!) can cause life-threatending allergic reactions" Ms. B1tch thinks there are even more things to worry about than that! Such as the nasty fucklies who pick up the food with their nasty hands, or spill one kind of food into another kind of food creating a gloppy mess, or the sneezers who miss the "sneeze guard," or the parents who let their children pick through the food, Nasties! And the food kept out too long, and ...Ms. B never eats at salad bars or buffets-ever. Ms. B1tch is funny that way.
"When your expensive meal comes out of the restaurant kitchen beautifully arranged (teehee) on the plate (as it does at her former restaurant by the way!), someone's hands have been all over your food!"
and this leads to this:
"Take a good look at your hands. They're crawling with bacteria, microorganisms, and viruses that can lead to disease. No matter how often or vigorously you wash, it's impossible to sterilize, because bacteria love to hide between fingers, around cuticles, and under nails and rings...."
and lastly from the Paranoids's guide...a common breeding ground for disease is!.......Restaurant Menus! Oh, and Ms. B1tch recalls thinking, "I should wipe these nasty menus" and never got around to it, and further, Ms. B doubts anyone else did either. Ms. B1tch held those menus every day, other hosts held them, the servers held them, and we gave them out to customers every day--and surely they were sneezed on, held by hands that didn't wash up after bathroom tinklings and who knows what manner of nasty, and children with nose-picking fingers, and ...oh, just use your imagination. Ms. B1tch, after working at Restaurant (which was a clean place, but how can one be all?) thinks that she should be one of those Germaphophics and take along an antibacterial wipe to clean the menu of restaurants she goes to! She shrugs. A little germ here and there makes us stronger, no?
Have a nice day, and Ms. B1tch will return.
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Ms. B1tch has left the Building.
Okay, Ms. B1tch will let the kittycat out of the cliched bag! Ms. B1tch has left restaurant-her last day was Saturday. Ms. B1tch wanted her life back! MS. B1tch had things to do! Ms. B1tch's other persona cried out to her to return to her "Real Self" and quit wasting her time with fucklies! Ms. B1tch had enough research! Ms. B1tch just had ENOUGH! so, Ms. B1tch told Chefs, "sorry, got to go!" worked her last week shifts, and on last day Chefs and kitchen guys said, "Ah, Ms. B1tch, we will miss you!" And Ms. B1tch said, "I will miss chefs and servers and kitchen staff, too!" and meant it, but as she walked away, down the stairs, out the door, into the night, she thought, "I won't let the door hit my perky booty on the way out!" ha! And as she drove off with her moon roof open, and the wind whipped her funky hair into a messier mess, she laughed, she laughed and she laughed...FREE FREE FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Now you all know. And now Ms. B1tch must decide what to do with her blog here. Keep it --let Ms. B1tch continue, although she will no longer be Restaurant-B1tch? Ah, she did not mean to start something that perhaps would not go on! She didn't think people would come by and be interested!
Should she keep posting the things she has seen and learned and heard from her short time at Restaurant, with a smattering of this and that and the other from the eye and brain of Ms. B1tch?
Should she just say "My other blog is here and this is who I am!"
what to do what to do!
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Bad Table! Bad bad bad!
Asshole Table of the Week!
Ms. B1tch nominates the Asshole Table of the Week as the Table of Four who came in, hot from the day, and Ms. B1tch pulled two smaller tables together for them, so they could sit by the airconditioning, and lovingly gave them their menus, and their silverware so lovingly wrapped just for them. She made conversation with them for a moment, and they were happy and pleased and content.
Their server is fairly new, but is gracious and serene, and took their order, got their food to them in good time, and all seemed well.
There was no warning.
Table of Four got up from their seats and left restaurant, and it was only then that we realized what they had done.
They had stiffed Restaurant.
Not only did Server not receive a tip, but they underpaid their bill and skeedaddled - the cheapass Fuclkies they are!
Oh, but Ms. B1tch can bet you lots-o-money that they are Tourists! For a local would not stiff their little town restaurant! For many reasons, and one of those not oft used reasons would be because in small towns, one is remembered! One will be pointed out as, "Hey! that asshole stiffed his bill!" And off in shame he will ride on his shameful jackass braying all the while "I'm cheap asshole cheap asshole who stiffed restaurant! Eee Haw EeeHaw Eeehaw!"(or perhaps the customer is the jackass riding on his own big ass of cheapness and dishonesty!)
Server said, "What did I do wrong? I thought everything went well..."
Ms. B1tch shook her knowing head and said, "You did nothing. Some people are just jerks, assholes, fucklies, cheapass worm ass droppings."
She sighed, still looking as if it was somehow her fault. That made Ms. B1tch even more mad.
Hot on the heels of the Asshole Table of the Week was the Table of Eight, on the same night, only a few tables away, that left their server, after sitting at two tables placed together (yet again Ms. B1tch accommodates when she can!) for over two hours, left their server a dollar or less a piece. After they receied ample attention, and much much runnning back and forth from server. Oh the pity! Oh the pity.
Ms. B1tch has something to tell you all, but will wait until her next post. For she did something in regards to Restaurant that will change this blog, and she hasn't decided how to address it. Later, Ms. B1tch will return and tell you and then go from there!
Ms. B1tch finally had enough. Ms. B1tch's Real Personal ripped open and spilled out. Which reminds me - when Ms. B1tch tells you she's scattered hints here and there as to her "good twin" - she is not doing that on purpose for you to have to play a game to guess! Oh! But no, Ms. B1tch doesn't like games or hinting or guessing games one whit. Ms. B1tch is only saying that at times hints will plop out on their own, and later she will say, "oops!" then she shrugs, for what the harm if anyone figures it out? She is not out to fool anyone or make the fool of anyone! Ms. B1tch does not expect you all to try to figure it out, but if you do, she will grin and wink and nod her head.
Ms. B1tch thanks you for for your comments which make her laugh and smile and laugh. She will be by soon to say hello.
Ms. B1tch will return.
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What Not To Wear to Restaurant
Ms. B1tch dined on: manicottii stuffed lovingly with a ricotta cheese mixture, then drizzled with a rich, spicy maranara sauce, and finally, sprinkled with a fine layer of parmesan cheese, and then, baked to perfection until the cheeses were hot and bubbling. A glass of Pinot Noir, and all is well.
Restaurant 1 Oh 1:: Don't dress in the dark. Don't borrow clothes from Charlie Brown. With few exceptions, fewer than you think, don't leave the bra in the drawer. Safari clothes aren't needed on a shop-lined touristy town street. Stop Hiding in your clothes. And finally, loudly, insistently: No Black Dress Socks WIth Sandals!
You may think that every day in Ms. B1tch's day (like below) at Restaurant is fraught with challenges and Assholes of the Week, and disgusting putritude from fucklies-but no! (yet, she will be back later with her pick for Asshole Table of the Week).
Today was as smooth as your little brothers cat's eye marble! smooth and opaguely transparent (can something be opaguely transparent? Ms. b1tch says Yes!) She floated about Restaurant on a cloud of la tee dah. So, Ms. B1tch will stray a moment from her usual and talk about: Clothing Faux Pas!
Ms. B1tch has been watching humanity for the few months at Restaurant, and from that humanity, she sees that Stacy and Clinton from What Not To Wear should pay a visit to our little small town during Tourist Season and pluck offenders by the nape of their neck and shake some sense into them.
Now, Ms. B1tch knows that we all can't be fashion plates each and every minute of every day, however, there are some modes of dress that cause Ms. B1tch to silently quip, "My my my my, I can't believe what I just saw! What are they thinking?" And she sees these things again and again and again, over and over and over!
Such as, women of a certain age (and women of a certain age who became the horror that our Momma's all gasped about, that our grannies all shook their head about, the Southern "Bless Her Heart" thing - the "She's Let Herself Go!" gasp from parlor rooms across the U-nited states) the women who burned their bras in the sixties and forgot to buy another one in the eighties - those women who dare to be bare, and perhaps should not? THose women who are well-endowed as Gernseys, and go about wearing a very tight cotton knit shirt, with skinny little straps which are stretched to their limit and beyond. As they walk down the street, everything is swinging swing swing sway swing swing sway paloop paloop swing flop flipity flop flop! The young nubile girls at restaurant say, in unison, "eyewww," while Ms. B1tch can only shrug and say, "well, bless their hearts..." They sit at Retaurant table and their breasts rest on their lap, or are flopped on the table top and must be removed prior to serving the food, or accidentally sat upon. Just tie them in a knot around the waist to get them out of the way and be done with it!
As well, Ms. B1tch wants to tell all of you women out there who are not a size 4, 5, 8, 10, 12-- those of you who somehow have been made to believe you are not beautiful and unique and wonderful because you are larger than those sizes. Women who have decided that they must wear huge baggy clothing to hide inside. Women who think they are not entitled to wear sexy or fashionable clothes. Please please throw away the way over-sized tie-dyed t-shirt and huge stretch knit pants! please! You do not deserve to be clothed that way! You deserve to be in soft flattering fitted clothings! Ms. B1tch recognizes it may be hard to find clothing to fit when one isn't five foot eleven, one hundred and twenty pounds, boy-breasted, and blond. Because Ms. B is a bit over five feet, between a size 4 and 6, and is not blond--and clothes do not always fit her curves very well. But Ms. B1tch knows there are clothings to fit better than what she sees presented on women of a larger size...and she wants to tell you all: stop hiding who you are! For if you dress for your size, if you dress with confidence, if you dress knowing you are sexy and unique and beautiful, you will be that.
Men: You do not need to wear black dress socks with sandals. Really, you don't! No, stop, believe me, listen to Ms. B1tch -- when you wear black dress socks with sandals you look fucking stupid. Now, Ms. B1tch has just said it and will make many of you angry with her--but sometimes things must be said! When Ms. B1tch sees gentlemen in black dress socks and sandals, she thinks perhaps the feet must be full of green puss and fungi, for why else would the feet be covered when wearing sandals? Ms. B1tch can make allowances (wince) for when it is chilly and the sandals are oh so very comfy and later the socks will be removed as it warms up (wince) but, Ms. B1tch knows the purpose of sandals is to keep the feet cool and breezy. Black Socks and sandals mean those thick yellow toenails, don't they? You can tell Ms. B1tch, she will commisserate with you (wince).
What is it with the florescent rubber gardening shoes? Oh, but they are cute on little girls, but, they don't look comfortable - they look plastic and rubbery and hot and as if they are flopping about on the heel to make blisters and they are in bright bright ice cream colors of lime green, day glo orange, and baby shit yellow! Ms. B1tch wanted a pair to wear about the house, but now she is tired of the site of them. BeGone Rubbery Shoes from Circus Land (and oh, Ms. B1tch imagines right now someone's face flaming a bit red, tinging just a bit of a blush as they are wearing these exact same shoes and have worn them and worn them about and around! Ms. B1tch forgives you, for all of us who have donned the fashion faux pas, --the entire 80's were a fashion disaster! ha! And, Ms. B1tch has certainly had (and will have!) her days of fashion faux pas!).
Now, I must stop right here, for I know someone may be thinking, "I'll wear whatever I want, as long as it's comfortable and who the hell are you for taking me to task HARUMPH!" Ms. B1tch can only say, go right ahead, but will you be respected? Will you be taken seriously? Most important, do you really feel wonderful as you walk down the street with confidence and sexiness and fun? Find that which is yours and embrace it - as Ms. B1tch does her funky way, her mish mash of this and that which is her own (for dressing "well" does not mean you have to conform! Horrors no!) Ms. B1tch doesn't dress for you, but for her--she finds that which makes her feel confident and Full of Herself as a Woman.
Men: If you are wearing Serious Hiking Boots, Safari Hat with a long flap that falls down on the neck (to keep the sun off the neck, or bugs?), loose khaki hiking shorts with the crotch to the mid-thigh and the leather corporate business belt holding up the huge protuberance that is your tummy, and black dress socks (what IS IT with black dress socks and casual wear?), and a knit striped shirt you stole from Charlie Brown-- think about it -- look in the mirror and think about what you are doing. Are you really going hiking? Are you going on safari, or hiking, or a business meeting--which? Are you really Charlie Brown? Do you have thick yellowed puss-filled toes? Did you dress in the dark? Ms. B1tch sighs.
Ms. B1tch sees all manner of humanity. Ms. B1tch wants to run to women and pull them aside and say, "You could be beautiful! You could be unique!" For every woman out there no matter the size or age or checkbook content has something which Ms. B1tch thinks is unique or beautiful and their personalities celebrated instead of hidden -- lustrous hair, pretty legs, engaging smile, high cheekbones, luminous eyes, a knockout grin, full lips, perky booty, curves, willowy, strong body, long full eyelashes, slender neck, full lush figures, a laugh like wine glasses clipped together, full-throated voice, all all--beauty beauty hidden by floppy sloppy clothing!
Ms. B1tch may have a bit of tongue in her cheek with this post, but she has a bit of the tsk tsk tsk in here as well.
Ms. B1tch will return.
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Ms. B1tch fights back.
PS (Ms. B1tch couldn't find Dianne Wiest photos from Parenthood Days - however, here is her recent work in Theater...she is 9 years older than Ms. B, so perhaps since Parenthood was filmed over 10 years ago, when Ms. Weist had short funky hair people most remember her for that? THough she also did Edwards Scissorhands. Yet, even as I look at her photos, I see the high cheekbones, and the impish look in the eye, the mischeivous slant to the mouth! Ms. B1tch is flattered to be told this, for Ms. Wiest is one of her favorites).
Imagine if you will a touristy kind of town. Oh, not one that is forever teaming with humanity all times of the year, and never with the theme parks with rides rising up like old tired dinosaurs. Imagine a quaintish kind of town, where tourists come during those Touristy Seasons. And in that touristy kind of town is a street lined with shops and restaurants and bakeries and furniture stores and the like. And on that street, with those lined up shops, sits a restaurant which also holds touristy kinds of things to buy and an ice cream bar and the restaurant and antiques and all manner of things that tourists love love love to pick over!
Imagine a Friday Night, when there is music on the street, live music in the building where restaurant is held. Imagine the humanity of a big tourist season, close to the Fourth of July vacation for so many. Imagine them entering this building on this street in this touristy quaint, quiet, town. Imagine the locals arriving too, and imagine the ones who move here or away according to the season. Imagine there are three times as many people that Friday Night than there are in the Usual off Season. Maybe four times. Imagine some coming in to shop, and some coming in for ice cream, and some comining in for food. Some saying, "May I use your bathroom?" Which causes Ms. B1tch to sigh. Imagine Ms. B1tch swimming through this sea of humanity. Swimming, hating to be touched by so many. Hating her body brushing up against the hoards. Hating the feel of skin against skin from strangers. Hating the noise, the loud loud LOUD of it all! Asking, "Are you here for dinner?" for this eve she is about to relate, Ms. B1tch was working evening. With her swirling skirt and her funky top and her dangly earrings and her funky hair and her clankity bracelets. (And oh, she was called DIane Weist again! The Diane Weist of Parenthood days, not of Law and Order days).
On this Friday night, the humanity flooded the little quaint street in the little quaint town which is never quite prepared for the Humanity which floods. THe noise. The crowd. For this quaint town does not have many of the attractions of some Touristy Towns (and oh, we are glad, we are!)
Imagine Ms. B1tch holding the reservations book and realizing with a sinking sinking heart that before she arrived, reservations were made that overlapped, that would not accommodate all the reservations, and as she later found out, some reservations were not taken down at all! That reservations were in fuckity fucked shape, and she would be the one Customers would blame, and Ms. B1tch was in no mood to take shit or blame or any manner of Bad Behavior from Fucklies!
Imagine, or for that matter it is not imagining, that Ms. B1tch's alter ego, her Good Twin, Her Other Persona, is rising to the surface more and more. She is having a harder than hard time keeping the Real Self apart from the Restaurant Host self. She is bursting at the seams -- her Persona that is the Real Her ripping out of her skin, protruding, emerging, spouting, busting full out! (And again, if anyone figures out who Ms. B1tch really is - her other blog persona, do not tell! but feel free to email and tell her and she will wink at you! Ms. B1tch has left hints all over the place, even on her other blog! For she has no wish to "fool" anyone.)
Imagine Ms. B1tch somehow pulling it out of her ass, somehow making the reservations work without too many scowls from Customer. Then, imagine one Table of Four, who would have received the ASSHOLE TABLE OF THE WEEK if they'd have stayed. Imagine they wanted a table in a certain spot, one of our most popular spots, and they had reservations, not specifying that certain spot even if it had been available, and when Ms. B1tch will not give them that spot, when she holds it for the reservation that will be arriving in five minutes, the Old Farty Fart Fuckly gets in Ms. B1tch's face and begans abusing her with his words.
Ms. B1tch's head turned 360 degrees and green spew flew from her mouth all over the coat and tie of Mr. Old Farty Fart Fuckly Who Should KNow Better.
When asked later just what the Old Farty Fart Fuckly had said to Ms. B1tch, Ms. B1tch could only say, "I don't remember. I was standing there, and his ugly fuckly face was inches from mine, his spittle hit my forehead either really or metaphorically, and all I heard was a pounding blood of rage unlike any high school football band thrumping away on a Sat'dy night." They oohed and ahhed and said, "Then what did YOU say, Ms. B1tch? What did you say to that fuckly?"
And Ms. B1tch could only smile, shrug her sage shoulders and reply, "Hell if I know." For Ms. B1tch got back in his face, Ms. B1tch told him what was what, Ms. B1tch told him NO ONE EVEREVER SPEAKS TO MS. B1TCH LIKE THAT, EVER! AND MS. B1TCH IS SICK OF CUSTOMERS ABUSING HER, AND SHE WILL NOT TOLERATE SUCH TREATMENT EVER EVER AGAIN FROM ANYONE DO I MAKE MYSELF PERFECTLY CLEAR???AND AND AND KAABOOOOOOMMMMMMM! went Ms. B1tch's head.
Mr. Farty Fart Fuckly, after picking up his jaw from where it puddled at Ms. B1tch's cute sandaled feet, said, "we are leaving!"
to which Ms. B1tch smirkly, smugly, triumphantly, and sweetly, quietly, regally replied, "Please do."
After that, a calm came over Ms. b1tch, oh but she was happy! She felt wonderful! She felt liberated! For she has been needing to do that for quite some time. And, Ms. B1tch has told CHef, "no more. I will take no more of fucklies shit...I'm warning you all now. No more."
And Chef laughed. And Chef's assistant said, "I love you Ms. B1tch" and salad chef said, "Wow! I wish I could have seen his face..."
So then, Imagine Ms. B1tch then coming into work the very next night, and while upstairs in the ladies facility, she hears screaming, and one of the screams shouts out, "I'll fucking kill you!..." For it seems Ms. B1tch has set a precedent in the restaurant for no longer taking shitlies from fucklies.
to be continued -- the drama of Restaurant amazes Ms. B1tch.
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Ms. B1tch Answers
Ms. B1tch wants to say how much she is enjoying your comments - she laughs, she commiserates, she enjoyes, she feels loved, she is delighted!
Now please answer my question: What do you think of Hell's Kitchen (the tv show), not the treacherous water spot on NY's West side -
Are chefs really that piss awful?
Published By junglelife
Ms. B1tch's chefs are not like the kind of handsome, the surly-but -maybe-he-has-a-hidden-heart-to-treasure, the Hot and Heavy Handed, the No Holds Barred, the Lion of the Kitchen ROAR ROAR (okay, Ms. B1tch sounds like she admires this Gordon Ramsey, when she thought him a blowhard, but alas, she begins to wonder if perhaps she thinks he is interesting!) Gordon Ramsey of the Fox Broadcasting Hell's Kitchen Fame. Ms. B1tch's Restaurant Chef's are not so Brazen in their Bold Tantrums! For Ms. B1tch would grap them up by their heads and twirl them around and around until they behaved. But, Ms. B1tch admits she finally tuned in to watch severarl episodes of Hells Kitchen, for she was quite curious. And one of her favorite parts is when the customers do not get to eat and have to leave hungry HAHAHAHAHA - okay, Ms. B1tch is teasing-she only likes it when they are Bad Asshole Customers who go away hungry. But, she thinks perhaps the Simon Cowell in all of us derives some pleasure from watching Bad Boys (or Bad Girls if the case may be, of which they need more of, and I'll step up to the plate! hooha!) HOwever, Gordon Ramsey makes Simon Cowell look like a little soft puppy! For Gordon Ramsey can be quite abusive,oh, but I am sure he is such a creative genius, he feels as if the entire world of Chefs and Cooks and all the like are mere bunions on the toes that ache and throb and cause him most pain! Ms. B1tch is smiling with one side of her mouth quirked up.
But, again, to answer that question, no, Ms. B1tch's chefs are not like that in general, in theory, in reality for the most most part. However! Chef's can be quite persnickity at times, and can be known to have a teeny bit of the Gordon Ramsey in them, Ms. B1tch has seen this, though they'd never direct it to her, since they know she will bite their heads clean off their necks! They are quite respectful of Ms. B1tch and joke about with her and tell her they are glad she's there. But Ms. B1tch has seen the Wrath of Chefs when things are not up to their par! Chef's are like artists, and like all artists, they have that creative genius, and sometimes creative genius means Insanity. Ms. B1tch knows this, because in Ms. B1tch's secret persona, she is creative, and knows at times how she can become quite insane--have you not noticed that? Of course you have!
Ms. B1tch will return-as she has something to tell you! Last night, Ms. B1tch finally lost it with a customer - Oh, the earth did more than tremble, it roiled and boiled and Ms. B1tch's blood pounded in her ears, and the air about her bent and waved and inverted and exverted and exploded and imploded, and KABOOM went Ms. B1tch's head as it exploded all over the Customer, who fled with his party out the door, fled as Ms. B1tch roared her rage at them. Ah, it was a glory to behold. Ms. B1tch felt WOnderful! Ms. B1tch was her own Gordon Ramsey, except her fury was spent on the customer who was the Biggest Fatest Dropping of Ass Goo that ever lived!
Ms. B1tch will return.
Bad Bad Bad Bad Table Of The Week
Warning: Ms. B1tch makes no apologies for cusslies or vile raging ventritude. You have been warned, oh young eyes or those of an innocent and pure demeanor.
Ms. B1tch stomped around in fury last night. The earth trembled, the ground shook, the very heavens upheaved and downheaved, heaving and heaving. If there was an earthquake in your area, no, it was Ms. B1tch stomping and stamping and raging in her fury at how nasty and vile some people can be. Then, today, Ms. B1tch was further nastily insulted by a Patron, who almost received the Asshole Table of the Week, but, since he was not honored a table by Ms. B1tch, (HA! the power of Ms. B1tch rules when she so wants it to be!) he will be dubbed: "Honorary Assdroppings From The Darkest Regions of a Slugs Anal Canal."
It wasn't the woman who, soon as her Rumpled Rump hit the seat, imperiously snapped to Ms. B1tch, "Where are our menus?" To which Ms. B1tch almost said, "Hold on while I stuff them down your throat, out through your rumply rump and then back up again. Have a nice day." Instead, Ms. B1tch said, "Here are your menus." but later, Ms. B1tch got a little dig in, such an innocent sweet teeny little dig, that Rumply RUmp Imperial Queen Table of Two looked a bit nonplussed for just a moment, unsure if Ms. B1tch just dug her claw a bit, or if she were just making an innocent comment.
Does Ms. B1tch sound angry? Does she sound fed up with the antics of Fucklies? Is she spouting the curssies and Pouty Poo Pahs most vilely this eve? Yes! And Ms. B1tch fears soon she'll have to change her name to "Formerly Restaurant-B1tch Who is Done With Restaurant and Is Fully and Completely Back To Her Regular Life Of Which She's Not Saying What It Is, But It is Lovely and Wonderful And Peaceful and Serene and Artistic"- but, that is so long a title, she may have to keep working as RestaurantB1tch for a bit longer! (as she still has more "Research" to do into the human psyche! She's not quite done yet. She still has some things to do to keep her there. And what about Chef? And Servers? What about Staff who love Ms. B1tch, can she desert them, oh heavy sighs of woe is Ms. B1tch!)
Now, Ms. B1tch will stop right here to include a bright shiny thing before she stomps about again, causing tremors across the land with her fury. There are some quite lovely people out there that Ms. B1tch encounters every day, kisses galore go out to them!, --and an example today was Table Of Five--three adults and two children--parents, grandparent, and two boys. THey get the "Bright Wonderful Shining Table of the Week!" Oh! Ms. B1tch was about to leave, and she turned to see them still there, sitting quietly, talking together, eating, the children well-mannered. She stopped by their table and said, "I just want to compliment you on your well-mannered children." And Ms. B wanted to also say, "And, the way you all are so well-mannered!" She chatted with them a moment, and oh how lovely they were!
Now, I know that Ms. B1tch's friends who stop by here are not ButtWipes of the World. And I would hope to bet those of you who stop by to read are not Fuckies from Hell; I am sure you must not be! And Ms. B1tch knows that many many people are generous and kind, but, the longer Ms. B1tch does her "Research" - which means, working at Restaurant instead of what she usually does (my secret persona, the one some of you may one day figure out, and that is fine with Ms. B1tch, for she will wink at you).
Ms. B1tch had so many Assholes from Hell this week, she thought it would be hard to pick an Asshole Table of the Week, but lo and behold if Table of Three last night didn't rise up to the occassion and take that honor on the spot! Let's Give Them A (back)HAND! clap clap clappity clap clap clappity stomptheirass clapclap
Their behavior was vile and putrid and stinkass from the outer reaches of StinkAssFromHelldom.
Now, I must stop again. For Ms. B1tch has a theory. Ms. B1tch's Theory: there is a hidden away planet in a hidden away place in the darkest reaches of space where no stars shine, where the black hole sucks and heaves, where the sun scorches and burns, and this is where Assholes are born, all of them shot out from the alien vaginas of Mother Assholes, the Crooked and Deformed Sperm came from Father Assholes, and out they shot SPITOUIE -hurtling down down down down to Earth where they populate the planet, and eventually show up at Ms. B1tch's restaurant, or your establishment, or in the vehicle which almost ran you off the road, or in front of you in line, or next door, or ...you know them! You've seen them!
Asshole Table of the Week, Table of Three, tried to treat Ms. B1tch as if she were their underling, make her hop about like a little toady frog, could snapity snap their fingers at her, where the two Bleachlies could toss their bleached hair, or Short Little Man could throw about his money that Ms. B1tch couldn't care less about-- but Ms. B1tch put them in their place Like That! Ms. B1tch was no longer nice after one minute of time with Table Of Three, for Ms. B1tch saw what was what. Oh, and she warned Server. The Young Handsome College Server, who works to put himself through school and does not deserve such abuse. And, he became Table of Three's little lapdog, and what could he do? Ms. B1tch told him, "I will tip you so you don't have to do this, okay? - don't take their crap! Don't eat their putrid spew!"
But, alas, The Young Handsome College Server didn't want to lose his job, and ran and jumped through the hoops and did it with a smile on his face as Fuckly Table of Three Harpy harped and giggled and snorted and drank and became drunk and nastied up the women's bathroom--the nasty Harpies!(and Ms. B1tch knows that money does not make Class! Class is born, not bought, same as she said about Sexy)--and ended up keeping staff at Restaurant three hours past closing time. Three Hours Past CLosing Time. (Ms. B1tch left well before that, unaware of their continued Assunholiness wellwell far into the evening.)
While the Droppings from a Worm's Lower Intestines Table of Three Spewed Putritude, Ms. B1tch stomped into the kitchen and told Chefs, "The Fuckliest Pickleheads on the Planet are at the corner table and Ms. B1tch wants to put them in a bag, tie the top securely, and then beat them with a baseball bat until they find humility and decency." Chef said, "Oh, Ms. B1tch, would that we could help you swing the bat of fury!" Dishwasher said, "People suck, Ms. B1tch!" Salad chef said, "Ms. B1tch, I concur, and may I add further that you look lovely when you are angry." (Okay, Salad chef didnt' say that, salad chef said, "Those flucklers!"
Ms. B1tch has gone and Stomped out Letters on the keyboard, so many letters that this post is too long, yet again, Ms. B1tch runs at the fingertips. So, Ms. B1tch will stop, right here.
Ms. B1tch will return.
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ASSHOLE TABLE OF THE WEEK! Oh, yes, ms b1tch will nominate the asshole table of the week, such is her fury at the antics last night of one table, she will dedicate one table a week as the Asshole Table of the Week. Coming shortly...Ms. B1tch will return.
(For anyone who needs a Ms. B1tch Answers, she will return soon)
Ms. B1tch makes no apologies for cussies and ranties and pooty pah pouts.
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Ms B1tch has been awol!
Ah, but Ms. B1tch has neglected coming by here, but not because she has not wanted to, no! For Ms. B1tch has much to talk about.
However, Ms. B1tch took a few days off from Restaurant - and while off, she relaxed her weary feet, she ate bad bad food, she watched movies, she hardly sort of hardly kind of almost barely hardly thought of Restaurant at all!
Yesterday she worked the fourth of July lunch shift, and Ms. B1tch, at the end of her shift, ran screaming back to where she lives in her secret place that she can not divulge! Oh, but perhaps one day Ms. B1tch will be found out and she will laugh and laugh and giggle and say, "Oh Well! Jig is up!" Which is why at times Ms. B1tch wonders, Hmm, should I say nasty old words on here? And should I yammer on and on about Customers and Restaurant and perhaps alienate someone or hurt someone's feelings or make someone pissypoopoo at me? And Ms. B1tch goes: hmm, and hmmmm, and ummm, and humm and then goes, "Nah, fiddle dee dee damn it, NO! Those who fuckly with Ms. B, are the fucklies who deserve my ranty poo pah!"
Now, you who have been so very gracious to come by here, and ms. B thanks you and even thanks you in a sincere way....If you have stopped by and wondered where is Ms. B1tch? and thought Ms. B1tch finally lost it and was perhaps in the Loony House, or in Jail for bitchslapping some Pig Headed Customer, or AssToucher, or PissyPants SnappitySnapper, or if she was slobbering in a corner speaking incoherently, and jibberishly even---to make the point more pointedly pointed--while banging her head against the well - then you would be wrong, except for the third part, which Ms. B is afraid she may have done a time or two.
Now, Go Eat Something and Eat Something Every day...Ms. B1tch will return.
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Don't touch the Booty of Ms. B1tch! (unless you are invited to)
Restaurant 1 Oh 1: Don't touch the Ass(ets) of Ms. B1tch or next time you lose your hand.
Oh, yes, some men can get sneaky-you know who you are, and most probably, any of you reading this won't be one of those men, but, if one of you happens to stop by,or the friend of one of you stops by-- Don't Touch My Ass. Don't Touch the Ass of anyone you do not know for doubledogdamn sure wants their ass touched by you.
Ms. B1tch is not fooled by the "accidental on purpose brush of light hand across her backside," for Ms. B1tch has seen felt heard it all in her many years of living with a bootylicous.
So, to the tiny little man who touched Ms. B1tch's ass on the way out the door, know this, the next time it happens, Ms. B1tch is going to accidentally on purpose kick your ass to the street, kick it stomp it and shove her cute little sandaled foot as far as she can pole drive it...metaphorically speaking, I'm sure, maybe, perhaps, but do you want to risk it, little man?
Working in Restaurant does not make us fodder for certain PickleHeads to fondle us, to siddle over and say, "you sure are cute...standing there, sure are cute..." and as soon as Wife comes over, you are all business. Ms. B1tch will one day say, "why, your husband was just saying how cute I was!" but Ms. B1tch wouldn't want to hurt the feelings of Wife, so she stays quiet. And, Ms. B1tch knows that Wife may get mad at Ms. B1tch instead of the horny little bastard she's married to. Ms. B1tch is a Woman of A Certain Age, you'd think they'd leave her alone! Ms. B1tch doesn't understand why some men must get the ego charge from their little flirtations, at the expense of those who depend on their love and loyalty. Oh, But I digress!
So, one fine sparkling gee willikers day, Ms. B1tch will explode and point her finger at this one and that one and the other one and say "I am a grown intelligent woman and am not at the whim of your pleasure to touch or google eye or kissy smack crap just because you think I am not a Real Person with Feelings...because you think I am somehow unworthy of respect because I stand here as a "service to the public."
Now, Ms. B1tch has that off her backside, and she wants to tell you how she has been playing "What Not to Wear" while watching multitudes of humanity walk by. Ms. B1tch is tired right now, as it is near two in the morning, and she couldn't sleep, but wanted to come by here and let loose the AssWiper tirade. She will return very soon with a nicely written post for you all to enjoy!
Just remember: Eat Something Every day!
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Ms. B1tch isn't Nanny Go Happy
every time i come here, i feel compelled to share one of my stories from when I was a Ms. B1tch. like the lady (and i do believe my memory is correct in that she was a bleached blonde!) who threw a wadded up napkin at my back to get my attention. she got my attention, but she didn't get my help.
Published By patresa
Ms. B1tch is dumbstruck! Ms. B1tch is appalled! Woe to the customer who throws a napkin at Ms. B1tch's back, for Ms. B1tch will tear them a new (insert disgusting image here of Ms. B1tch doing terrible things to woman, things which include blood and guts and tooth and nail and rendering of body parts--but only metaphorically speaking of course).
Restaurant 1 0h 1: If Patron asks, "Is there a children's menu?" and Ms. B1tch reples, "No" - then know that Restaurant is not a Fast Food Restaurant which caters to the whim of the child. That said child(ren) should be well-mannered, and that goes for Parents as well. If the sign does not say, "40elevenbillion sold" or have a creepy King running about, or a Iconic Spokesperson touting the delights of cold meat gone bad, then Parents and CHildren should sit quietly and behave properly in Nice Restarant.
Ms. B1tch is tired today. Ms. B1tch saw Server lose it yesterday, one of the Top Servers lost it with a customer. Chef had to come down to appease said customer. Ms. B1tch talked to customer. Ms. B1tch was stuck between customer and server, for she really wasn't sure who she felt most bad for--and most times, Ms. B1tch is all about backing up Servers and shooting "The Look" and "The Walk a way" to customer. But, in this instance, Ms. B1tch was torn, for something didn't seem quite right.
Ms. B1tch is tired. For there are days when her "Secret Persona" wants to take over, the one who is exhausted by People, and when that happens, Ms. B1tch must keep her mouth shut as much as possible, less something rips out between her lips which leaves Customer staring at her as if she is from Planet Whatthefuck.
Ms. B1tch is tired tired tired today, and must soon pretend she is not tired, must put on her smile, and stand up tall, for she has an image to uphold!
Today, Ms. B1tch hopes no one will ask for the tuna to be well done, thus horrifying Chef. Or, asking if there is "too much garlic in that dish?" knowing that there is NEVER too much garlic in that dish! Ms. B1tch hopes no one will say, "we just want to share a sandwich," for ms b1tch thinks, "SHare? Share your plate? SHARE! Share a sandwich? Are you insane? Eat! Eat! eat the food and stop trying to starve!"
But, mostly, Ms. B1tch hopes no one will ask, "Do you have a children's menu?" while scads of snotty-nosed kids swirl about the parent's legs, calling out, "I'm hungry I'm hungry, I want ice cream, I want candy, do they have Wonderbread and balogna with american cheese and may-0-naise?" while parents let them crawl about the restaurant entrance, chewing on the wood, crying, yelling "wheeee" as they slide down the banister. And, then, if even after Ms. B1tch says, "no, we have no children's menu" they still decide to stay, they let their children run amok, and throw cheerios (that the parents have at the ever-ready) all over the floor, and leave a god-awful mess on the table, and vomit putrid baby bile all over the floor, and scream and cry and parent won't take baby out of restaurant to calm them, and leave the viles nastiest dirtiest full of ungodly unmentionable horror diaper on the bathroom counter, and ...Ms. B1tch hopes the Parents Who Are Aware will stay instead-the ones who watch over their children, who do not let them run amok, or throw food about this fine restaurant, who do not ruin the experiences of the other diners.
Ms. B1tch says, "Teach your children how to behave in a restaurant, just as Ms. B1tch's parents did, and if you do this, everyone of Us benefits...you, the other diners, the servers, Ms. B1tch, all!"
Ms. B1tch is not a babysitter, or a maid to clean up after your children, or a nanny, or a Cheerio receptacle, or a nasty diaper picker upper. Ms. B1tch sees Parents Who Get It , and then the horror of the Parents who don't give a shit. The latter leaves Ms. B1tch tired tired tired.
Ms. B1tch will return.
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Ms. B1tch answers.
You left a comment [on junglelife's space] about the wooden spoon and I was cracking up loudly- that was hilarious!!!
Don't you dare answer the snaps of a bleach blonde! You stand your ground!
This post however, has led me to a question: How does one politely alert a server that their assistance is required at the table? Does one wave, cough, lightly but audibly call for attention...what is the rule of etiquette?
Published By junglelife
Grace, Ms. B will tell you that sometimes Ms. B1tch hears someone holler out "Miss! Miss! Miss!" and Ms. B1tch has had to pretend she didn't hear, for she is rushing to do something she must must do before she stops another minute! This happens only when she's been stopped multiple times or perhaps there are multiple groups of people who have been waiting to be seated. But! Ms. B1tch knows where the Patron Who Needs Assistance is, and will come back Post Haste to check on them. Sometimes Ms. B1tch raises up her hand, index finger up, which means 'One moment please!" Ms. B1tch always scans the room, and she likes it when someone raises up the hand a bit, and that way, Ms. B1tch can either raise hers in a "one moment please" or go directly there and help them. Servers have had to ignore at times, too, when they've been asked multiple times for things, and are afraid they'll forget if they have too many requests at once. If they see a raised hand, they can acknowledge it with a "one moment please."
If you need something, or you have been neglected by Server- then raise up your hand in that universal signal - not the "School Raising of Hand," but that slight raising up hand, with one or a few fingers (not the MIddle One! mind you!) raised in a relaxed manner. You know that Hand Raise! The subtle hand raise will get attention. If you are still neglected, then "Miss!" may have to be called! And if that does not work,and you are neglected still -- then you must find someone and let them know! For you should not have to keep raising the hand, or calling out to Server, or doing without what you need, even on a busy shift someone should be coming by shortly to check on you.
But never, under any circumstances should anyone Snappity Snap! to Ms. B1tch, and her Servers feel the same way.
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Ms. B1tch doesn't answer Snapity Snaps.
What Ms. B1tch dined on last night: On the brink of rare sesame seed coated Sushi-grade tuna, accompanied by spicy garlic cous cous, all preceeded by a Spring Mix Salad with a drizzle of olive oil and a hint of balsamic vinegar sprinkled lightly with grated parmesan cheese, and a glass of perfectly "cooled" Shiraz (for red wine is never chilled, but should not be warm either...think of cool cool wine cellars).
Restaurant 1 0h 1: Don't snap fingers at Hosts and Servers, we may bite said fingers off one day.
Ms. B1tch sometimes lets slip her "Real Identity" while working at Restaurant. Not that the Two of Me are not the One of Me, for I am not crazy enough to believe I am actually Two People. But, Ms. B1tch's persona at restaurant is quite different from the persona she Really Is(isn't it?) Which is why Ms. B1tch is quite surprised when people like her, when people say, "Oh, you are so good at this!"
Ms. B1tch let slip this to a table of customers the other evening, let it slip out before she caught herself, a bit of her slip showing, a bit of her Real Her peeking out, when Ms. B1tch said to a group of diners who said "How long have you been doing this, you are so good at it and blah blah blah." Ms. B1tch stood a moment, looked out the window, looked over their heads, looked way out way out beyond them, and said, "But, I really don't like people! I really don't do well with people at all."
To which the entire table laughed, and a woman said, "Oh, with your personality, I don't believe that at all."
Ms. B1tch answered, "No, really, I don't like people all that much. People get on my nerves."
From the table, "hahaha, oh you are funny! hahah we like you! hahaha, isn't she cute?"
Ms. B1tch is shaking her head, "But I mean it, People Get On My Nerves and I Do Not Really Like Being Around THem All That Much..."
The table, "We just love you! You are so good at this! You are funny, isn't she funny?" and they smile up at me as they laugh. And Ms. B1tch starts to laugh, too, because they are nice people, and they think she is "cute."
Another Patron, at another table, says, "you look like Diane Weist-you know, how she used to look when she was thinner." Ms. B1tch says, "huh?" For she's never heard this before. Patron nods, smiles big, "Yes, Diane Weist, like in Parenthood or something..." Ms. B1tch knows she looks nothing like Diane Weist, so she laughs and moves on to next table where they say, "you are always so nice, everytime we come in here, you are smiling nice."
And as Ms. B1tch walks away, she thinks about people who do not like cats, and they will say, "I don't like cats!" But, the cats laugh at them, and come rubbing up against their legs, and jump in their lap and purr and all the while the person is saying "I hate cats" but the person's hand is petting the cat's fur, and the cat is purring and rubbing it's cat head against the person who claims to hate cat's , and the person says, "I really do not like cats at all! I don't do well with cats," and cat continues to purr, settled in Person's lap, while Person pets and pets and let's cat stay there, in fact, forgets cat is even there, just both sit there, contented, while the Person feels a bit of perplexion, a "How did this happen?" sort of amazement.
Ms. B1tch had good Customers on Friday Night. Ms. B1tch was Happy with them. Ms. B1tch was happy with the Server's tipouts too, for they were quite generous. Ms. B1tch floated around the restaurant on Friday night, floated around on a cloud of Happy, for once (almost) every Customer who entered the door was respectful and kind! Every Patron accommodating to Ms. B1tch's desires.
However, Ms. B1tch had one Friday Night Woman who thought she could snap her fingers at Ms. B1tch to get her attention. The woman who (and Ms. B1tch notices that many of these snappers, these Rude Tightanaled Woman are bleached blond, and she is sorry if she offends Bleach Blonds, well, she isn't really sorry, for if you are a Bleach Blond who does not fit this description, then you should not worry, and if you are a Brunet who Fits this description-then this applies to you just as well--she is only pointing out what she has noticed lately)
So, Bleach Blond who really shouldn't be Bleach Blond because it makes her look washed out and miserable and like she is Trying Too Damn Hard to be Sexy when Sexy is all about NOT trying at all! Sexy Just Is, and Sexy People Have it or Don't. You can't manufacture it out of a box, or a needle, or a scaple, or a blob of Gel-like substance that comes in C's and D's and DD's, or a pouch of cosmetics, or out of a Day Spa. So, Bleach Blond Who Is Trying To Be Sexy But Succeeds in Looking Washed Out and Used, snapped her Red Tipped Fingernails at Ms. B1tch, and Ms. B1tch gave her "The Look" - and anyone who knows Ms. B1tch knows that Look and would immediately be Aware. But Bleach BLond has no clue, Bleach BLond is standing in the middle of the restaurant, snapping her fuckyfingers, head held in what she believes in haugty hinky haud head, thinking she looks sexy and powerful, and Ms. B1tch puts her right into her place, without saying a word. Ms. B1tch gives her The Look, and walks on by, and Ms. B1tch looked Powerful instead, Ms. B1tch maybe even looked sexy, even though Ms. B is not Bleach Blond, and does not Try Hard at all, not one whit, but Ms. B1tch knows the Power of the Walk Away, the Look, and the message, "Go fuckity pluck yourself, I have better things to do than answer snapity snaps!"
ANd that left Bleach Blond standing there looking quite ridiculous in the middle of the restaurant with her fuckyfingered snappity snap hand in the air, left her standing there having to wait, left her to have to come to Ms. B1tch and ask her in a nicer voice, made BB come to Restaurant-B1tch instead of the other way around.
Ms. B1tch doesn't answer Snaps.
Ms. B15ch will return.
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Ms. B1tch answers.
I cannot get over the audacity of some people!
Your blog is very well written. I hope that you do not mind that I visit often to glean advice.
May I ask a question please?
I have had weight loss surgery and portions at restaurants are often much more than I can eat at one time. If I ask for a to go box at the beginning of a meal is that an insult to the chef, or is the a discreet way to ask for only a portion of said meal with the rest to be packaged to go home without being placed on the plate for presentation?
Thank you for your time, Rebecca
Rebecca, Ms. B1tch agrees that portions are out of control in many restaurants. Partly because of Customer Demand as time went by to Get a Deal. That idea of "getting what one pays for" or "feeling as if one is not cheated" has made many things grow in size, and that includes most especially Food Stuff. Our portions are not blobbed high on the plate, however, there is plenty to consume and many times people take to go boxes.
Ms. B1tch says there is nothing at all wrong with asking for a To Go box in the beginning. You can ask Ms. B1tch when she seats you if she wouldn't mind getting a to go container (and this Ms. B1tch would not), or just let Server know when Server comes to take the order. It would be easier to ask for a To Go box with your meal than to ask Chef to portion it out for you, for they do get very busy and have their "System." Asking for a To Go box is not an insult at all! For we know you will be enjoying your meal beyond the confines of our establishment, remembering us even after you have left by saving our aromas and tasting our meals the next day, and maybe the next.
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Ms. B1tch loves the dance.
Restaurant 1 0h 1: Kitchen and Servers Dance a Complicated Ballet.
When customer comes to Restaurant, Ms. B1tch seats them, gives them their napkin/cutlery and a menu, tells them who Server is, and wishes them a wonderful meal. Sometimes she will have an anecdote, or they will ask her questions. If we are extremely busy, Ms. B1tch will take drink orders. Soon server comes and takes customer's food orders.
The order ticket has a journey now. It must go from Server's hands to the kitchen: to Chef, and his staff. Chef and sous chef and salad maker, etc, all must choreograph their movements to make sure the food gets to your table in a respectable order and a respectable manner--meaning, if there is an appetizer, it must be done first, then salads, then entree. Server brings bread to table and drinks and appie and salad and entree-not for one table, or two, but for many--remembering who is first, who gets what, who gets when, who gets where.
Supposing at one table two Patrons order a complex dish, and one orders a relatively easy one, and one a cold Salad as Entree-care must be made by Chef to make sure all four meals are choreographed to come out at the same time, so that hot will be hot and cold will be cold and all will be fresh.
The ticket will be "passed about," to salad station, to executive chef, to app station, etcetera--a lovely, but at times, complicated dance, for there isn't just one of these tickets, there are many of them from at least three servers, who have mulitple tables. THere could very well be thirty tickets or more at once waiting for the Dance to be Danced between the Chefs, Sous Chefs, cooks, etc. Meanwhile, Server is saying, "Where's my app?" or "Where's my salmon?" "Where's my Filet Mignon?" And, as well, Chef is saying "Order up! Where's Server for this order? It's going to get cold!" For Server is at a table with Mr. and Mrs. Demanding Asshole while Mr. and Mrs. Wonderful Patron's food is getting cold.
Here is what happened the other night. Big Demanding Table of twelve, all twelve orders go in at once to Chef and Staff, along with the other orders they have from the other servers' tables. Busy busy. A Well Coifed TightLipped Woman begans berating Server for putting something wrong in her order. Ms. B1tch walks up, stands in amazement as Well Coifed Woman berates Server, and now, turns her slitty eyes and berates Ms. B1tch as well, about something both Server and Ms. B1tch know can not be, for this is not something ever done on our menu. Ms. B1tch has enough and says, "I'm leaving" and turns her back on the Tirading Tightlipped Rude Patron. Server is right behind, and Ms. B1tch says loud enough to be heard "NO ONE talks to Ms. B1tch that way..." We check with Chef, sure enough, Woman is Wrong, she was GaBitching about something that didn't even occur. Did she apologize? No. Ms. B1tch realizes that people like this are very very small people. People who treat others in this way make themselves look very very tiny. Later, Ms. B1tch worries she will mess up Server's tip if she was overheard, so she is careful, but inside she is pissed that TightAnaled Woman would treat people this way. She likes this Server, he's sweet, and he's young and sincere and doesn't deserve it. Ms. B1tch will keep smile on face, so Server will get his tip, but it irks her-she is irked for him, since he can't act irked, he can't say "I'm not going to take this crap!" Sigh. They end up leaving a very big tip, and Server is happy, but, Ms. B1tch would love to say, "Give that tip to me, and let me cram it up TightLip Woman's ass! I'll pay you back your tip! Just let me do it, please..." But she resists.
Customers do not know that I am assessing them as People of the World, watching, learning, doing my own research. Sometimes they think I am Owner, or Manager, and still this does not stop them from their Rudeness. Some may think I must be "uneducated," for why would I work at a restaurant at my age? Oh! HORRORS! They think, " I'd never stoop so low as to work in a restaurant! It's demeaning, sniff, nose in the air. She must be (insert Mr Ed's word here)." No! It is not demeaning, it is not a lowly job, and Ms. B1tch sees this more and more, even more than before she entered their door, sees these things as she enters their domain, the domain of Restaurant. It is hard demanding work that is only rewarded by the "grace of the patron" by their return, and by tipping the servers. Our restaurant is small, locally owned, Chef-owned, and Ms. B1tch is proud of them. Servers are masters in Customer Relations, in psychology, in math skills, organization skills, in conflict resolution; and they all are from different "walks of life," from different socio-economic backgrounds, differring education levels, and they all have or had dreams, but, they all love what they do. For all but perhaps a few, this job is their Choice because of Love of the Food Business, not because they are not smart enough to do something else! This is their Love, not because there is nothing else out there, but because they Choose this, and are damn good at it. And some make pretty damn good salaries at it, salaries a Jr. Executive may be envious of, for all I know.
Ms. B1tch watches, learns- for I have another persona, same as I do in BlogVille.
Yes, Ms. B1tch has a Twin of Herself...Her Good Twin and Ms. B1tch is the Bad Twin. Oh, if you ever find me out, you must not tell! I've left clues here and there, for Ms. B1tch has no wish to Fool anyone, she only has a wish to remain Incognito so she can do what she does. Meanwhile, Ms. B1tch finds this new Restaurant World facinating! She is facinated! And admits a part of her has fallen in love with The Love Of the Food, too.
So, when Ms. B1tch meats Demanding Asshole, Ms. B1tch inwardly smiles, for she knows they think they are dressing her down, putting her in her place, when all the while, Ms. B1tch is there at Restaurant for a Specifc Purpose and their behavior is noted, just as in a camera click it is stored away in her brain. Ms. B1tch does not need the job, and Ms. B1tch can walk away whenever she feels like it. Ms. B1tch has all her Power. But, alas, the Servers do not have that power. Ms. B1tch's servers need their jobs and love their jobs, and deserve to be treated with respect and dignity. Ms. B1tch's Chefs and Staff deserve respect - for why would they do this if they did not love it so? Small locally, chef-owned, restaurants do not always make lots of money--it is for the love of the food.
The dance between Server and Chef and other kitchen staff amazes Ms. B1tch. The choreographing is as complex as any you'll see on some shiny glittery dance floor, as any you'll see up on the stage.
When Customer's food gets to the table-hot and beautiful and fresh and tasty, it is because Chef and Kitchen Staff and Server dance a beautiful dance and it all went well. If your food gets to you in a "less than" way, it is because there is a mistep, a missed beat, a stepped on toe--ah! but if Patron could see the Dance! They'd have much more respect for Restaurant employees.
Ms. B1tch will return. Ms. B1tch is sorry if all this seems a bit boring, but Ms. B1tch really doesn't give a shit.
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Ms. B1tch answers
MR ED THINK MISS BEETCH SOUND RETARDED ME ED HOPE MISS BEETCH DONT WORK IN KITCHEN COZ AT MY JOB RETARD NO ALLOWED NEAR FIRE!SO MR ED WORK AT BURGER KING KLEENING BATROOMS MR ED IS LONELY COZ NO RETARDED GIRLS TAKL TO HIM. WILL MISS BEETCH GO ON DATE WITH MR ED? MR ED WILL PICK MISS BEETCH UP ON HIS MOPED.MR ED WILL TAKE YOU TO BURGER KINF FOR WHOPPER THEN MR ED TAKE MISS BEETCH TO HELP MR ED COLLECT TIN CANS.
YOU CALL MR ED OK MISS BEETCH?
June 22 10:36 AM
Dear Mr. Ed,
Published by: mR. eD
You made Ms. B1tch laugh and laugh, even if you meant it to be quite insulting, Ms. B1tch thought it was funny and couldn't even get insulted. Ms. B1tch doesn't eat Burger Kings, for horrors no! - and thinks you may be like a lot of other Mr. Eds who sayyyyyy they'lll give you a whopper and turns out it's only a little whopper jr. Ms. B1tch is still laughing, and had to read the comment all over again. Ms. B1tch talkes exception to the word "retarded" however.
(an Ms. Beetch just saw other comment below and Guffawed. Ms. B1tch thinks Mr. Ed is funny in a strangely weirdly scary sort of way)
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Ms. B1tch Hates To Beg.
What Ms. B1tch dined on last night: Boneless, skinless chicken thighs nestled deep in a dark rich tomato sauce-with italian spices, heavy on the fresh basil (for ms. b1tch adores basil), lovingly ladled over spaghetti, and topped liberally with grated parmesan cheese. But to start: Delicate romaiine lettuce leaves wrapped around a grape tomato and sprinkled with a hint of shaved parmasan. To drink: A full-bodied Pinot Noir, slightly fruity, but very dry.
Restaurant 1 0h 1: It is true, Waitstaff depend on your tips to make their salary. As it turns out, so does Ms. B1tch, but in a backwards way.
Ms. B1tch first wants to say that not every Customer who enters her door annoys Ms. B1tch! For there are the Customers Ms. B1tch adores! The Customers who's personality, wit, charm, and sometimes, just downright flakey-but-lovable ways, make her job delightful! As in the couple who entered yesterday and proceeded to argue about whether they'd been in the restaurant before. The elderly, or should I say "seasoned" Woman said to her Seasoned Husband, when he said, "I've had the fish," responded, "We've not been here." The Gentleman furrowed his bushy brows and replied, "Yes, ate here." She quipped, "Maybe YOU did, but I didn't..." (perhaps implying he's come with another hoochy girl that she'll tear her hair out of she ever catches the old coot). The Gentleman looks confused a moment, and says, "thought sure I've been here." To which the Woman replies in a sort of harsh half-whisper, face to the side, "You're Crazy!" Then they teetered on behind Ms. B1tch to their table where they continued their back and forth. Ms. B1tch laughed and laughed, but later, out of view.
As for tips, and tip outs: Our Restaurant, as many others, pays way less than minimum wage to servers, and not much above minimum wage to Host. Think approximately somewhere between $2.50 and $3.50 an hour- probably not much more in many instances, but could be less in some, and for Host, approximately twice that. So, example: a server comes in, works a four hour shift, which includes all the sidework, waiting on tables and all that entails, and then their closing shift sidework, they make less than $20.00 without tips. Granted, with tips, if a server is on the ball, they can do very well. I know this, because I get "tipped out" by the servers. Which means, they are supposed to share a small percentage of their tips--since I am in control of seating their customers evenly and fairly, but more, Ms. B1tch is one of those Sparkled Gem Hosts who goes above and beyond her duties to help waitstaff by assisting them in many ways. I make approximately twice as much as they do per hour, which means, I do my sidework, and my host work and I help out waitstaff, customer relations, etc, and I am quite busy and exhausted at the end of my shift, and for many of my shifts, I make around $20.00 in base salary. Ms. B1tch relies on the tips from tipouts as much as the waitstaff does.
For that wage, without your tips, we work hard and we put up with all kinds of Humanity. With your tips, our salaries can be more palatable. Is it fair for Restaurants to pay so low and depend on Customers? No, Ms. B1tch thinks it is not, however, this is how it works in many Restaurants Across the Land, yes, in reality, that is how it is--we depend on your generosity of spirit. And, some servers, as said, do quite well (even if some of the servers are not always generous in their thanks you's to Ms. B1tch, some are quite generous and Ms. B1tch loves them for it, and same goes for Customers - some are fair, some are generous, and then there are those who [insert diatribe here]).
Ms. B1tch will take a moment here to thank each and every one of you Patrons who make Ms. B1tch's job easier, those who are not rude and unruly, who don't allow their children to run amok as if it is a McDonalds! To those who tip their server a minimum of 15%, and we always hope, 20%. Now, if your service is bad, then you, Customer of Mine, need to let Ms. B1tch aware! However, perhaps your service was good, and your expectations were too high? Think on these things when next entering Restaurant. Think how hard we work, how much Humanity we come in contact with, how we have to almost Beg for our Salaries, instead of obtaining a fair salary from our Employers, we must grovel at the table of you Patrons, and you, Dear Ones, must dig into your pockets not only for your supper, but to supplement our pitiful salary. Ms. B1tch Thank You One and All for your Love and Understanding.
When preparing to add your Tip, please keep in mind, if you feel as if you had horrid service--- if you come into our restaurant, and we are having a busy day, do not expect your food in ten minutes. This is not a Fast Food Restaurant! Our food is cooked to order! Our food is delicate and lovely on the plate! Chef takes pride in the food and how it is presented. Chef lovingly places the product, Chef wipes any droplets off the plate, Chef has prepared the delicacies as if for his own, Chef is Proud o fhis Work, and The Restaurant Business is quite Unforgiving, Hard, Long Long Hours, and many Restauranteurs do it for the Love of the Food, and not for money, so many times their Salaries are very low in relation to their output as well! We do not have a staff of many as maybe some Corporate Entities have -- watch the movie "Waiting" and you may change you mind about visiting places that get your food to you Fast Hot Hard --Glopped on the plate! Visit Our Restaurant with the DIning Experience in mind, not the "Give it to me and give it to me NOW!" attitude.
And remember, we hate begging for our salaries as much as you at times must feel put out paying them. (Ms. B1tch is a wonderful tipper, always has been, and continues to do so now).
Ms. B1tch will return.
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Ms. B1tch answers:
KM, aka Barnyardmama, asks:
Yes, I understand these things (from below). But here's a question: if you HATE a seat, is it acceptable to wait for one that you do like? For instance, I HATE sitting by the restrooms because it grosses me out to see the pee pee room when I'm trying to eat. I'll sit by the kitchen, but I hate to sit by the rest rooms.
Ms. B1tch hates being seated by PeePee and Poo Poo too. It digusts Ms. B1tch!(and more on Public Bathrooms later...) So, Ms. B1tch does not mind if you want to wait for a seat. And, at Ms. B1tch's restaurant, the bathrooms are well away from the seating, however, she knows that some seats are more desirable than others, just by way of the mood or attitude or wishes of Customer. Ms. B1tch also advises that if one has a seating preference, they try not to show up during Lunch Rush, and try to get there a bit before, or after, (there may be a dinner rush, but this is less defined, perhaps). During Lunch Rush the Early Diner Gets The Requested Seats First. For, once those tables are filled, Ms. B1tch just tries to get Customers seated as best she can.
Ms. B1tch doesn't mind when Customers ask her questions or give requests, and understands much more than one may realize, for whenever a Patron walks in the door, Ms. B1tch pretends that Patron is Ms. B1tch, or her famly member, or her friend -and wishes to treat them as such.
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Ms. B1tch Answers.
Mrs. B1tch was asked by Jen:
dear ms. b1tch,
is it acceptable to ask, before you are seated, if you can have a booth or be seated in a particular spot in the room?
Jen, Ms. B1tch answers YES! For Ms. B1tch wants to make the customer happy, and sincerely so. Ms. B1tch loves the polite, engaging customer. Ms. B1tch is pleased to give them what they want, if she can. WHen Ms. B1tch says, however, that those seats are taken, and Customer says, "then I'm walking out," Ms. B1tch can't understand it. But, by all the means, ask Ms. B1tch if the seat of your choice is available and she will place you there, even if it means double seating a server, for sometimes that is just how it goes and Servers must let Ms. B1tch make customers happy-for happy customers return! SO ASK, PLEASE YES! Ms. B1tch is Yours To Ask.
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Ms. B1tch Twitched Her Pert Bootie and It was Good.
Restaurant 10h 1 -- Restaurant Host job is to seat Customer so that you get the best service-
Ms. B1tch is there to keep Order in the Restaurant! To keep things Running Smoothly for the Servers! She does not take you to "that" table because she is Mean! She does not make you sit "Over there" because she is Making Life Difficult for You. She does not derive perverse pleasure in seating you just where you Hate it the Most. Ms. B1tch also doesn't understand why she seats you at This Table and you sit down, and just as she is walking away, you point to the table right next to it and say, "Can we sit at That Table instead?" And it looks exactly the same to her. She sighs inwardly, and says, "Of course."
When Ms. B1tch takes you to a certain table, it is because there is a Method, a Reason for this...to seat the servers as evenly as possible, or, if need be, so as not to overwhelm a server who is new/in training. If Customers insist on "I want to sit THERE, not HERE," the method, the seating, is uneven and you, customer, may not get the best Service, for your server will be double or triple or HORRORS!--QUADRUPLED seated!
Ms. B1tch wants to tell you this little snippet, which later made her laugh and laugh, but at the time made her frown and frown.
Ms. B1tch seats Two "Ladies" - and right away, Ms. B1tch knows they are going to be a pain in the buhonkuass. She smiles a bit that they are to be seated with the server who does not "Tip Out" Ms. B1tch fairly(more on this later -tips and tip outs). WHen Ms. B1tch turns her back, the "Ladies" get up and change seats, Ms. B1tch shrugs it off, Ms. B1tch does not ask Customers to get up for she tries to remain professional, the Customer Be Right Always.
Later, Ms. B1tch sees an article left behind by a customer. "Oh!," she says, "Someone left this behind! I must put it up so they can get it when they return looking for it." For Ms. B1tch finds all kinds of things, and she always turns them in, she never keeps anything, for Ms. B1tch is honest to a fault - she never steals tips from a table, she never keeps lost things, she is Honest and True and this is how she sleeps at night-it is her nature to be this way(more on this later, for Ms. B1tch is more than meets the eye).
Ms. B1tch picks up article, walks by, and one of the "Ladies" hollers out, "Hey! That's MINE!" Ms. B1tch turns and says, "Oh, I'm glad I found it for you.!" and hands places it lovingly in the "Ladies" hand, and says, "Here you go, Madam!" an d the "Lady" looks at Ms. B1tch as if she is an Idiot, and shouts, "IT HAD MY NAME ON IT!" Ms. B1tch wants to Bee-otch slap her upside the head for her rudeness, but instead, Ms. B1tch says, a bit unruly, "I DON"T KNOW YOUR NAME!" as Ms. B1tch walks away, twitchs her behind a bit as she prances away, leaving the "Lady" in the dust of her cute little sandaled feet, knowing that her Bahonkuass looked pretty damn good that day in her cute Old Navy pants . Ms. B1tch's bootie is one of her assets(ha), even at her age.
Ms. B1tch later asks a group if they are to be seated for lunch, and they say, "No, we are just looking at the menu..." Ms. B1tch turns to do something else, and Shazam! they are going into the restaurant to seat themselves, right after they told Ms. B1tch no. Ms. B1tch knows that people don't understand how it works in restaurants with hosts.
Dear customers, dear eaters of food, dear wonderful lovers of fine dining, or almost fine dining, or anything that isn't fast food (ugh!) Please, respect The Host!
If all of you, dear customers, sit in one servers station all at once, that server is overwhelmed and your food and service will be slowed down.
As well, Servers make their money from tips (more on that later) so if one server gets seated much more than another, then the least seated server goes home without as much money. Ms. B1tch tries to keep their money as equal as possible, even for the tight fisted Pootiepants mentioned above!
Tables of two are for two, and tables of four are for four-try to remember this as much as possible.
Ms. B1tch understands Customers have "Favorite Seats" and especially the Regulars who come to eat often, but when you Breeze By Ms. B1tch as if she doesn't matter, when you say, "I KNOW WHERE I"M GOING AND I"VE BEEN HERE A ZILLION TIMES AND I WANT TO SIT THERE AND THATS WHERE I ALWAYS SIT AND WHY DO I NEED YOU TO SEAT ME?" she sighs greatly, for there are many other Regulars who are going to think the same thing, and not every one can have what they want.
So be kind and gentle to Ms. B1tch, and let her do her job.
Ms. B1tch will return.
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Ms. B1tch goes off subject.
Restaurant 1 0h 1. "Restaurant Employees do more than meets the eye of Customers"
Customers enter the restaurant, they see the waitstaff at the ready, the Host with her menus and smile, what they do not see is how the waitstaff comes in early and does their “sidework,” and as well after the lunch or dinner shift, more “sidework” before they can leave (all for a pittance wage-but more on that later). Host, who Ms. B1tch is, if you haven’t figured that out yet, has other work as well as her host duties, (for her own pittance wage, more on that later). There is much to do before Patron comes to Restaurant…Restaurant Workers scurry, make haste, we jump through hoops, and then, Mr. and Mrs. “Demanding” walks through the door, and…
stares at me, says, "Where is my bread? I asked the waitress for bread and it's been four minutes and I don't have my bread and last time I was here, right off I got bread with some kind of green crap to dip it in and here I've been waiting and when is he going to bring me my bread? I'm going to tell the owner how mistreated I am. I saw that table over there get bread and we were here first, and can you tell me why I don't have my bread? Huh?” Customer looks satisfied, as if he loves it I have to smile in the face of his rude behavior.
I say, “We’re very busy right now, and waitstaff is working extra hard today to serve everyone promptly. I apologize for the delay.”
And Patron rolls his eyes and says, “What-EVER …” while his wife sniffs and looks me up and down, crosses her arms and sniffs again, her mouth pulling down into the fuckiest frown I’ve ever seen(and Ms. B1tch knows that they ordered only one entrée, and are going to share it along with their waters which will have to be refilled ten times, and more bread and more olive oil with pesto and where’s the lemon?And we need another plate, and another napkin, and another fork, and where’s the waiter? We put our order a full ten minutes ago, and ...and this needs more sauce, and I thought this came with a side, you call that a side? Where’s the rest? …and their ticket will be tiny, but not as tiny as their tip, Ms. B1tch knows all this…)….
and I go get their bread, and deliver it, without spit, with my smile that says, "Would you like me to feed it to you? How about I cram it down your throat? Huh? Would you like that? Would you like a fist in the pie hole with that bread? HUH HUH?" But instead say, "We are so sorry you had to wait, and it won't happen again." and watch as Patron smiles with satisfaction of putting the lowly restaurant workers in their place. Ms. B1tch is off subject, as she gets carried away by the image of Mr. or Mrs. Demanding Asshole-- Ms. B1tch knows the bread is only the beginning of a Table From Hell-oh, she knows--Crabcake that she is.
Ms. B1tch got off subject, and knows at times she'll be rude and unruly and out of control, scalding milk to a full rolling boil until it spills over the sides and creates quite the mess. She shrugs. What to do? But tell the truth, and sometimes the truth is spilt scalded milk.
Now, we have our understanding about Ms. B1tch does not giving a rat's buttend if she makes anyone in the wild world happy here, she is hoping those who come visiting will understand that her "Make me happy because I'm going to spend money in this restaurant, so I deserve to be waited on and doted on and made happy and satisfied and everything must be perfect" button has been pushed once too many on far too many days.
Ms. B1tch will return.
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Ms. B1tch gives them no more thought.
Pah! I watched the 20/20, and it is just as Ms. B1tch suspected, the little silly men were trying to sell their silly little book. Ms. B1tch laughs at them, and will give them no more thought, Poof, they are out of my mind.
Ms. B1tch will return later...
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Ms. B1tch is disgusted.
Ms. B1tch has one eyebrow arched. Ms. B1tch is taken aback. Ms. B1tch can not believe what she saw on the telee this morning. And here I was going to let you all know some restaurant 1 oh 1 and what do I see on the screen? Mr. Anthony Broodain(who I Ms. B1tch is now curious about), and two "Waitstaff" from New Orleans telling You "All", you patrons, you customers, you people who flock to restaurants across the lands, telling you how it "Really is in restaurants," and proceeded to vomit up vomitus so vile, Ms. B1tch hung her head in consternation, then, raising up said head, she stomped to the kitchen to whip up a breakfast so divine, even the gods hovered nearby, but alas, she could not eat with grace and style, for her mind was on tonights 20/20 episode, and how at times sensationallism is like picking at one's nose, digging and digging and digging inside the cavernous darkness until a nugget, nasty and green and gross, is found, then raising up the finger and saying, "Look what I found!" while everyone exhales an, "Ughhhhhhhh..."
Broodain and and the so-named (former?) waiters disgust Ms. B1tch, and I am sure that is quite what they desire. Disgust sells! Who wants to hear about lovely things, when there are disgusting putrified oozing pus-filled things to talk about!
Of course Good Morning America, and the 20/20 show which will air tonight, will be careful to say, with a sly grin and a pretty wink, "of course, this does not go on in ALL restaurants..." knowing that everyone watching will most certainly wonder if it is happening right in their own back yard. People will watch. Then, when the book comes out, people will read. Interest will flare for their fifteen minutes of fame, and then, since people get hungry, and people love to eat out, and people are very good at Pretending Something Didn't Really Happen, they will return to the restaurants they love, if they even left them in the first place. Remember the fried rat scare in chicken places? Fingers and who knows what all in chili's, coke cans, and other foodstuffs, the bite out of the hamburger, the glass in the patty, the spitted globulous mass under the bun, and did those places go out of business? No! Booming as usual. So, have your fifteen minutes of fame, dear ones, and then be on your way _Shoo! Shoo! Like a maggot-filled fly, Ms. B1tch waves you away
Let Ms. B1tch assure you those things do not happen in the restaurant she works in.
We do not, under any circumstances, do the following, would never dream of it, the thought never enters our sparkling clean minds.
1. We never spit on your food, nor do we do anything at all to your food, other than what you wish for us to do, even if we don't agree with you.
Ms. B1tch has personally carried food back to the kitchen, and has personally watched waitstaff do the same, no spitting, no throwing on the floor, no hawking and patooie. At best, a sardonic disgusted look from Chef when I say, "the customer says the tuna isn't done enough..." Chef's mouth draws down, Chef's eyebrows raise, Chef says, "Ingrates! Don't they know this is sushi grade tuna and this is how it is supposed to be done! Ingrates! Ingratitude! My masterpiece will be ruined!" Then he takes the plate from my hand, as he sees I am not kidding around, and with a saddened, resigned look says, "Are you sure this is what they want?" And Ms. B1tch sighs, nods, says, "Yes, Chef, it is. But, oh, Chef, if we could only teach the world!" and he nods gravely, while he lovingly, but sadly and regretfully, cooks the poor delicate flaky tuna to a hard brick that now belongs in a can hawked by talking fish with eyeglasses, then with a flourish, adds another garnish to make it look as if it just came out of the kitchen for the first time (or perhaps to hide what he finds incomprehensible). Never, ever has food been tampered with. To what end? What pleasures did those two "Waitstaff" get in fouling up someone's food? Are they fourteen? (and my apologies to all you fourteen year olds - I know so very many of you get an undeserved bad rap, but Ms. B1tch was fourteen once, and Ms. B1tch would probably think something like someone spittooing on food from some bitchy asshole was funny at that age).
2. Who in their right mind would serve left over butter with cig butts, ashes, trash in it? Who but a nasty bastard would brush away Gunk from delicate, beautiful, sunflower-yellow, creamy delicious butter and re-serve it in a sauce? Is Mr. Broodain insane? Is his restaurant's, or the restaurants he refers to, so hard up for cash the staff is instructed to do such a thing? Ms. B1tch is insulted and disgusted and her raised eyebrow is even further risen. Ms. B1tch has personally bused tables for the waitstaff, and personally watched waitstaff or busboys do same, and as always, all of the food that you customers waste goes into the garbage. That goes for the bread, as well. Oh, Mr. Broodrain, and you two who call yourself Waiters (and at your ages! you should be ashamed of yourself for what you said on the telee!) how could you re-use product from half-eaten plates, or bread from tables to make croutons! Ms. B1tch is on the edge of her seat as she types, her eyebrow lowers to match the other, and then both come down together. Ms. B1tch is not happy. At most, Ms. B1tch thinks people are spoiled and can "Afford" to throw away good food, because in Ms. B1tch's restaurant, the left overs go in the trash...even if it has been untouched.
Ms. B1tch has more, but she will watch the 20/20 episode tonight-with interest, with a keen eye, with an attitude of Disgusted Wonder. Ms. B1tch will report back to you just what she thinks of this matter!
Ah, but food is to be honored! The restaurant experience to be enjoyed and lovingly cultivated. But, more on that later, for Ms. B1tch has bones to pick with customers, later, she does! Ms. B1tch has lots to say on that matter.
I will return.
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My first blog post. Isn't this exciting? As you can see from the name above, I am the Restaurant-B1tch. It's a play on words,and I'll explain in case you are one of my customers who stares at me with a "huhn?" look on your face when I tell you there are no tables available and you must wait and you can't conceive of the idea that this could be so, as you are the most special special person in the whole world and thus have reason to then become abusive towards me as you make your demands and as I stand there with that restaurant smile on my face which slowly fades into a "I'm really wanting to kick your ass right now" frozen kind of grimace which you still think is a smile and thus keep barfing words over me while thinking you are somehow better than I am because you've come to eat at our restaurant and I am at your service, but I digress... your restaurant-b1tch is here to serve, and, as well, the play on words because I need a place to vent, to b1tch! Oh, but I am clever!
Two simple words which hold an entire tirade from my job at The Restaurant.
This is a restaurant ANYWHERE - you name the state, the town, the street, all over America (and beyond) there are restaurant-b1tches like me, tired of ...
well, just what are we tired of?
That's what Ms. B1tch will be telling you all about in this blog! Imagine! An inside look into the mind of a restaurant b1tch! Why, you too can learn how to behave in a restaurant, thus making the world a hap-hap-happier place to be!
I will return...Next Post: Some Restaurant 1 O(h woe is me) 1, or, what the customer should know, but probably does not (and No, we do not spit in your food, or drop it on the floor and serve it to you, or any other unsanitary practice, I am talking about how things work)